It's restlessness. An itch that forgets for a few seconds then returns with more friends.
It's heat. Feeling unable to feel any comfort from a cold pillow, just warmth, another seat by a burning wood fire.
It's loud. Every turn of your head brings a crashing of hair cascading around your ears.
It's the lack of peace. Fingers spasming for a grip of a forlorn lover.
It's an empty pit. Endless wandering.
It's one night of several, stretched on until the next.
It's being awake until a beautiful memory plants its kiss of dreams.
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