Longing

In the nights when I stay up too late
Trying to escape the loneliness of sleep
For the mirrored loneliness of being awake
I sometimes come across your writing

And I want to tell you that
Your poems about people who aren't me
Comfort me now

And they help keep the swirling malevolence
(Which gathers as my mind poisons itself
Constantly questioning, fearing
Wishing you were near
Or sneaks in
When I read the stories of others
And am far too invested in their sadness)
At bay, at least until the lights are off
Until the books are laid aside

How strange, that your words of love for another
Could make me feel so warm
As if held within their
Comforting stanzas