too late, can’t sleep…

a few words for the darkness

there really are nights
when midnight feels like 4 a.m.,
cold air in creases,
tangled sheets, sweaty pillow.

hands balled into fists,
’cause it’s faster to keep them rolled;
grasping irony with both hands.
if my head would cease
moving in three directions
at once, even sleep
should be within arms reach.

an ironic calm in the bedroom,
is the best I can expect.
certainty assumed; sunlight & morning
is coming whether I like it
or not.

or not.
—————————————–
Can’t conquer the desire for sleep until I’ve polished off the poem….some gift. Dedicated to all the people going to bed unhappy with the world they’re going to wake up in tomorrow. Hopefully, we’ll all find some peace tomorrow.

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2 Responses to “too late, can’t sleep…”

  1. there are really such nights-and nights which you will long to end but they will just drag on.

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