Restless

Curled up under these sheets, I am cold and awake. I don't think of sleep. I want to close my eyes, but with every few seconds of shut-eye, they flutter open again. Maybe it is the yellow light, the one that keeps my eyes bloodshot and hiding under the blankets at 11pm. The one that's horrible for picture-taking, and worse for the lemon stained walls. Tonight will surely be another restless six  hours. Thoughts of you, racing though my mind. You're a whirlpool of endless memories while I'm a mere picture frame. I lay in this bed, shivering, remembering skin against bare skin. I remember drowning in white sheets and pillows with you, my mind blank, and eyes focused on yours. "Where have you been?"