It's Clockwork

I wish you'd touch me  
without need of inquiry or warrant.  
I wish you'd wrap my body around yours in a sea of sheets and sexual debris.  
I wish you'd fill my mouth and breathe me your breath, so sweet.  
But you don't,  
and you won't.  
Your body doesn't ache for mine the way I thirst for you, like water come midnight.   It's clockwork.  

The late hours of the night meet the early hours of the morning in a timeframe that feels like a lifetime.  
Your body lies next to mine, but you're miles away at that very same time. I want to stay next to you, but I wonder, so I wander...  
It's in these times, these sleepless nights, that I lay awake most lonely.  
If I were alone perhaps I'd be a little less alone.  

Unanswered questions cloud my perception and pour into poetry after filling my insecurity past full.  
It's now in the late hours of the night I feel most alone, with you beside me.  

I feel your heartbeat through the sheets,
and it's clockwork.  
I'll count each beat till morning.  
It's clockwork.