• Insomnia

    by  • February 27, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Waxing Poetic • 2 Comments

    These words flow from my fingers like water over rocks in a stream.
    The scratch of this pen on paper is like the sweet click-clack sound of heels on pavement.
    The loop of the script is like the gentle arch of your brow.
    I treat this paper beneath my hand like it is the delicate touch of your skin.
    I write these words knowing they will never be enough, and sleep eludes me although I long for dreams because they are the only place where we can be together.
    The rain outside my window whispers your name and it takes every ounce of strength that I have to stay in my bed, sleepless, dreamless.

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    2 Responses to Insomnia

    1. words
      February 27, 2012 at 8:31 am

      Such beautiful words, such profound sadness they convey.
      Words. They are never enough, indeed, if action is never to follow.
      Choices we make, and those others strip us of.
      True love comes but once in a lifetime, if it doesn’t find a way, it wasn’t it.




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    2. feel
      February 27, 2012 at 10:33 am

      you, i have been there many times… insomnia is never good but it truly sucks when you’re trying to escape…




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