Insomnia

[Rye~murs]

I call you insomnia.
I associate your being
with sleepless nights.

Those...long...cold...
Lonely....nights.
When you have....
Way to much time to think.
Maybe even....pour a drink.

All I want to do is dream
As,
Naive as,
That may seem.

WITH
Broken promises
You
Sold me dreams
That
Turned into
Stolen dreams
And
Resold dreams
I'm
Holding dreams
And
Gripping dreams
That

Will never turn,
Into real things.

Bruises...
These,
Bruises...
Inside....
I'm the
Only one that loses.
These....
Tears.
Fears.
Numb, I've become
Some.
But I still feel.
Still
I know what's real.

And still!
I put on make-up.
I put on make up, still.
I've put on so much make-up
I don't remember what's on the inside
Of you,
Or even I.
And still.
I sit.
So, still.
And wait for you to stop
But even I, know
You never will.

On the brink of insanity
I laugh
At a slap to the face.
Funny to me
The normality
Of such a tragedy.

I don't even bother with make-up anymore.
I've put on so many layers of cover-up,
My surface will never be seen.
I will never have the luxury,
Of opening my heart.
Again.
You....win.
I lose.

I scrub, hoping
Wishing. Thinking....
That if I could just take of the make-up...
Maybe I could wake up.