restless collective

I am not a well-rested morning.
I am a sleepless night, when your neck hurts and your mind is restless.
I am all wrong turns and sudden stops, mile after mile of rough edge.
I am not the softness of a sunrise or the sound of breaking waves; I am hot sand at noon, cotton sheets against sunburned skin.
I am not the thrill of a beckoning glance.
I am a roll of the eyes and an impatient sigh.
Always a little too much but never quite enough; I’m not as easy as they wanted me to be.
—  molliefox, Everything Else