Sleeplessness

These wings whisper,
When elements conspire,
I was at peace before
Science became the liar.

It's simple really,
These 24 hours in a day,
Their ritualistic walk,
As we sing in utter dismay.

Your stained soul,
Wets my fingers,
Beneath translucent wings,
Your doubts linger.

Your sanity is my discomfort,
Your explanations my silence,
You awaken, I disengage,
Under your truth, I wince.

The salad undone mid-air,
The tea reaches for your lips,
24 hours have come to an end,
All drained, the tea bag tips.

So much for conscience,
I know not what to say,
My fingers hold thy scent,
My lips your hours, your say.