12-04-2014, 12:06 PM
Insomniac
It's 3 am and I watch the clock change.
The halls are still and quiet,
like a morning lake on a windless day.
I am pleased to hear
no footsteps but my own.
Snores accompany quiet breaths,
And I watch as dreams flicker overhead.
I tiptoe, careful not to disturb the man,
hunched over with his head in a book,
pen loosely clenched in his hand.
I smile and keep walking,
hollow footsteps on a cold tile floor.
I pass a window where a couple stands,
holding hands with love in their eyes.
I begin to wonder about their story,
but I sneak away,
afraid to shatter the moment.
My eyes catch a movement:
papers fluttering in a window breeze.
Cold air enthralls me, and
I feel frigid adrenaline build in my veins...
I keep walking.
It's 4 am and I hear laughter walk by,
echoing on walls in the darkness.
The voices diminish and go to sleep.
But an anonymous face remains,
sitting on cold stone.
Her head is down, and
moonlight reflects off of tear-stained hands.
Empty eyes acknowledge my presence,
and we sit in knowing silence.
There's nothing to be said,
but my gaze gives hope.
We part ways again in the quiet.
It's 5 am and the sky begins to lighten.
I crawl into bed,
huddling under a pile of blankets
to warm my cold breaths.
It's 3 am and I watch the clock change.
The halls are still and quiet,
like a morning lake on a windless day.
I am pleased to hear
no footsteps but my own.
Snores accompany quiet breaths,
And I watch as dreams flicker overhead.
I tiptoe, careful not to disturb the man,
hunched over with his head in a book,
pen loosely clenched in his hand.
I smile and keep walking,
hollow footsteps on a cold tile floor.
I pass a window where a couple stands,
holding hands with love in their eyes.
I begin to wonder about their story,
but I sneak away,
afraid to shatter the moment.
My eyes catch a movement:
papers fluttering in a window breeze.
Cold air enthralls me, and
I feel frigid adrenaline build in my veins...
I keep walking.
It's 4 am and I hear laughter walk by,
echoing on walls in the darkness.
The voices diminish and go to sleep.
But an anonymous face remains,
sitting on cold stone.
Her head is down, and
moonlight reflects off of tear-stained hands.
Empty eyes acknowledge my presence,
and we sit in knowing silence.
There's nothing to be said,
but my gaze gives hope.
We part ways again in the quiet.
It's 5 am and the sky begins to lighten.
I crawl into bed,
huddling under a pile of blankets
to warm my cold breaths.