lullaby for an insomniac.

Dear you,

It is 5:03am and sleep has never been further from me than it is right now. Contrary to feeling alive I feel nothing but empty. If you are dreaming right now I wish I could be you.

Jealousy is ugly but for now it is my only companion. No one else is ever awake during this time, not in the way I want them to be. They're only awake when something pulls them from their dreams like a storm. Clouds are reflected in my eyes but instead of rain, they bring thunder.

My pen has been quiet for so long, I've forgotten what it sounds like. My journal used to be able to breathe but now I feel as though all I am shoving between its pages is mold. I wish I could remember what the pages used to smell like.

Lies form on my lips and I can only hope that they bring me to something greater that could possibly be the truth written on my bones. I want to peel back my skin until I can see them and read what I've never known I was born with. Sometimes I think it's bravery.

I draw lines between the freckles on my arms because I know they are the blueprints to the galaxies growing inside me. And I hope that some day those stars can be the map that guides someone home because I've never been able to read my constellations.

If it were possible I'd ask not for a lover, but only his dreams trapped in a jar so that when he sleeps I can look at them and pretend my body is just as restful as his. My pillow only knows how to betray me because every time I flip it, it's never the cold side.

When I do sleep it is never as peaceful as I would like. Abandoned corners of my memories are revisited and flood back, drowning me in their depths. I'd like to hold on to them but they have turned into nightmares of things that have already happened. The only defense I have against them is my smile.

I've never asked God for much, only that he remembers not to be lonely. Because while he may be alone, I have never forgotten him despite forgetting myself. I haven't been to church in so long I've forgotten what it feels like but I never felt God there anyway.

My innocence is contained in my soul with fairy-tales as the guards. It has been pushed aside to make room for my reality. But every time I drop an F-bomb my innocence does not flinch away, it merely colors in more of the white spaces of my vocabulary. 

I like to believe that my thoughts are lovely as butterflies and not as toxic as my lips. My kisses have never brought someone happiness and I do apologize for that. I wish they meant something more than empty desire I will never be able to feel.

I have never felt so alone as when the moonlight is my only illumination and the clock ticking is my only sound. It is my lullaby that begs me to close my eyes even though both it and I know sleep was never my friend. 

If you are asleep right now I wish I could be you instead of me. 

Sincerely,

xx

Blue