most the time I can’t sleep
and I stare at ceilings
and analyze their anatomies
the anatomies of ceilings
their shade of beige
their dimples
their pockets of vents
and the hum
of their emittance
nothing about love
can fix that
nothing about love
can really fix
anything
but does it soothe?
oh the calm
that smoothes
over my skin
while I sleep
finally sleep
and the resolve
I wake up to
cradled
in my collarbone