Him, Always
I think of him
The roughness of his hands
The softness of his beard
The warm, golden glow of his skin
The way his body fit mine perfectly
I think of conversations we had
The calming sound of his voice
The easy, unfiltered joy of his laugh
I think of the ridges of his belly
The firmness of his biceps
The sweetness of his kiss against my lips
I think of him, always
But it's hardest at night....
I want him back, I want him home
I miss him
Welcome to my Night
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
Breathe in,
Now breathe out again.
Take one more breath in,
And now release it back out.
Now close your eyes, and sleep.
No.
No? What do you mean no?
No, I need to think about everything.
Everything, really?
Yes, EVERYTHING.
But, but why? Why can’t you just slow down and sleep in peace? You’re so tired, and your day’s been so long…
Because now is my only time to think clearly about EVERYTHING. In the dark, in the quiet. No interruptions between the conversation of me, myself and I. I can let my mind explore the deepest, most inner thoughts of myself…
Or about how you feel flat on your face in front of that cute guy at work today.
… Maybe I’ll just go to sleep.
That’s what I thought.
Midnight Vortex
Spiraling in colors and random
Letters, words fill my sleepless
Endless nights.
I think of patterns,
Polka dot spots of happiness in our
Darkened life of despair.
Random images of past places I've been,
Of lives I have lived...
Wondering how much longer I can stay.
My soul speaks to my demons in these wee hours,
Plotting, planning for the future I'm too
Scared to begin.
Pictures of dreams encapsulated by sparks of
Random desire to run
Freedom beckons, words fill my mouth and eyes
I struggle to pen them, only to find
They remain hidden in the night.
Night time
Sometimes its nothing, you know...just space enough to fit the world in, other times its everything to the tiny sound in the street. When you reach that point were you need to tell your mind to keep quite please so you can get some sleep ... please stop talking? but your the only one in the room ? short of you losing your mind...
Mum, dad, sisters, him... life, purpose, the future, it can even be the depth of my favorite Jon bellion song or the fact that things irritate me so easily. How many things I need to get done... and then its morning.
Midnight thoughts.
There has to be more than this.
Will I ever achieve true bliss.
Can I mend things, or get that kiss.
Everyone and everything I miss.
More often than not I remimince,
Sometimes I smile or grimace.
Bad thoughts are what I try to dismiss,
While I try to figure what's amiss.
Eventually I'll fall asleep,
And sink into a silent abyss.
Things
Things I Should've done
Things I Should've Said
Things I Should've Ate
Things I Shouldn't of Ate
Things I'm Going to Do
Things I'm Going to Say
Things I'm Going to Eat
Things I'm not going to Eat
Places I'm not going to go
Places I'm planning to go
Then Darkness
Then Sleep
Then Morning
Then Night And Repeat
Just before finally drifting off to sleep,
I always pray for you and I
The Lord our Souls to keep.
Then I think back to the early
Mornings dream, I dream every night.
Usually they are dreams of my Granny's house and my family before the elders all died.
I think about the universe sometimes and how small we are compared to everything in it.
Sometimes I can't help but relive every painful memory I thought I locked away and threw away the key to, if I'd just handled things differently...
Over and over.
I remember friends lost,
Lifetimes past, forevers ago.
I worry about those who have less than I do, and I just barely have enough to get by on. I pray for them.
Just before drifting off I stream music from my phone, calming relaxing music and I hope that my mother will visit me in my dreams. That's my happy thought to see my best friend again. ZZZZ......
I Become.
At night, I become what I hear;
I become what I feel;
I become what I smell;
I become everything that I don't see.
At night I close my eyes, and I become the crickets playing their song, and the rain stomping on my window, and the whir of the fan above my head.
At night I become the soft but firm press of the mattress on the back of my shirt, and the warmth of my feet under the covers, and the cool blow of the air, and the tension in my muscles as they just begin to loosen.
At night I become the faint but familiar smell of the laundry detergent of the sheets against my skin, and the peony fragrance of the eight candles sitting on my dresser, and the clean smell of my shampoo as my hair falls around my head.
At night I become a story.
I become a stranger dancing in the rain. The crickets applaud her and as she dances, her body loosens and she becomes wind, dancing through the peonies in the garden.
At night I become what is around me.
At night,
I become.