tracing the contours of your body,
like an artist without aim.
You are not mine, but tonight
I will resist the sadistic urge to follow
the last breaths of moonlight.
I will remember the tortured pages of
a diary I stole, mere hours
before those bruised lips confided
that I was beautiful, too.
Sleep sweetly, for I fear
the dreams that have kept you awake.
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Since I have an apparent inability to convey this through my poem, here's what was in my head.
Spoiler
This was about two people who aren't a couple(you are not mine) but have slept together, the speaker is up while the other sleeps. The person who is awake wants to leave before the other gets up (sadistic urge, last breaths of moonlight) because he/she considers it casual sex but knows that this will hurt the person sleeping so he/she doesn't. He/she stole the diary of the person sleeping and sees that this person is actually really messed up/depressed (tortured pages, diary i stole). They obviously consider each other attractive and there's a lot of passion between the two (bruised lips, i was beautiful, too). The speaker is afraid of the demons the person sleeping has and doesn't want to have to confront them (last line).

