This one is going to make me seem like a particularly unwholesome human being

Insomnia
Not yet sunrise, and in an upstairs window
a silhouette puts up her hair, leans forward
to set her breasts in place before an early shift.

I’m crosseyed and lonely and
waiting for sleep wakes mute and stupid hopes
so I just lean against the sill and let the focus fade.
In the upstairs window the light goes out;
When dawn begins, my head is hot against the glass.