seashell

my sleep is sparse and spread so thin
i hate to think the night will end
the sun come up, the dark descend
but most of all, i miss the wind

howling through hallways
curl along corridors
till it trails down my throat
and all of my insides

i yearn to be filled
by the feelings you harbor
otherwise i'm empty
a jealous little shell

plastered to the seaside
held up to no one's ear
but if they ever looked to listen
i think they'd hear a howl