At Night

At night he rests beside her
the anxiety is more than obvious,
he, waiting for her to touch him
he waits…
like a helpless man would
after missing the last train home,

he keeps hoping she will turn over…
but she never does,
his frustration slips and begins to build
body temperature rising and itching,

she turns over and counts in her mind
an eternal void opening with each second,
somewhere between five-six hundred…
they both fall asleep.

B. L. Crisp