Some

Some nights are nervous,
like waiting on test results
or wondering if he will call.
Doubting that you can handle yourself
for five minutes while alone.
Some nights are the teeth
that smile crookedly through the window
and make your bed into a refuge.
Some nights are the tears
that do not come.
The wanting of him near
the dull ache in the neck,
his touch would heal.
Some nights are two hands clasped;
legs restless, breathing deeply from the chest
Beer bottles on nightstand-
crickets singing a hallelujah chorus.
Some nights are a whirling fan,
that keep spinning but take you nowhere.
Some nights last forever,
blanketed in deep purple.
As you wait for the sound
of his voice to usher in the dawn.