I Can’t Sleep

I laid down and closed my eyes last night with intent of falling asleep. In the darkness my mind wonders however. Where it goes sometimes surprises even me. But usually I just go along. Last night I fought. Ears full of tears, I pulled my hand away. Afraid to follow or be drawn in. I knew you before we were born. Somehow locked in a bond too strong to break. And because I can’t remember that time I remember it in my own way. I left a space here in my life for you. You abandoned it long ago but I repeatedly try to give it back. The sound of my own grief won’t let me sleep in peace. What more I could have done I don’t know. It does little to ease the guilt or sooth my soul. And I can’t see past the stains that cover my eyes and blur my sight. This rose colored lens distorts my view. I reach out for you to keep from falling further into my sorrow. You’re not there. A drum beats in my chest. Thoughts race like runners through my mind. I just want to sleep. But we’re still attached somehow. Connected by song and name and pain. I want to break free but then I’d lose you for good. I’d much rather lie here in this dark place, two ears full of tears, and miss you than move on never having had the chance to lose you. So I don’t sleep anymore. It’s been this way since you’ve been gone.