Ireland's OWN Poetry and Prose

Your touch
—by Míchealín Daugherty

When I can't sleep
I read you
Your verse
Your pain out on your sleeve
Like me with my heart
Of pain
passion
I read you
To remember
How to feel
How to love
How to lose
How to need
And then
With your words
Running through my veins
I succumb
To your touch
Then I can sleep