I'm lonely tonight, and the candle
is blown out. I was sure I'd sleep
tonight, but I was wrong once again.
I wrap my fingers around my pillow
allowing my hands to eventually go
numb. Its that time again, where I
don't even care anymore. I just lay
here knowing you are dreaming for me.
Maybe this time something sweet.

I've lost the taste to let the night
embrace me in its cold sheets. I want
the sun to shine so I can close my eyes.
Just so I can be safe again. I know
it is kind of silly that I can't sleep.
Not alone, not anymore. Not without him
watching over me. I'm an adult who can't
sleep alone.

I think it's quite normal, but it makes me
snort away my sadness even more so. I don't
need my eyes closed and my conscious barely
aware to know I'm dreaming of him. His kisses.
His embraces. The sound of his voice right
next to me. I spin my illusions with the heater
turned up high and my legs tangled up in the
blankets. They smell like me. Which kind of
annoys me.

But, they are mine and I wished they smelled
of him. But if they did I'm sure I wouldn't
be lying up staring at nothing. My finger is
particularly numb and I shake it away hoping
that maybe I'll gain feeling back. But, hoping
only gets so far with the stars gazing down
at my window. I feel depression settle in my
pit of my stomach.

I hope he will wake up and will speak and I'll feel
safe enough knowing he's right there. That at
any time I close my eyes and nightmare away,
I can crawl forward and let him know I need him.
The sound of my music drones out to a buzz.
I forget for a moment that I even exist as my eyes
film over with tears. Another lonely night. Could
it get any lonelier? I shift and push myself up
against the wall.

Fearing as I stare at the curtain that is my door.
I wish I had a lock that was solid. That I could
use with care. Which to me would be every night.
My body begins to glisten with sweat but, I won't
bother to remove articles of clothing. Even if I
touch myself to an aroused state I won't bother
with removing these fibers containing my skin.
I melt into this comfy pillow that I recently got.

It is something to be proud of.
Because it doesn't make my hurts worse.
I reach down over the side of the bed and
pull the 2litre bottle up, taking a swig of flat
pop. Letting it wash away my slight bitterness.
I am the lonely wolf who cries to the moon.
For that special someone to set me free.
But, the moon is alone too and I'm sure she
doesn't mind the company.

I count the hours on my hands.
How many has he slept?
Ten. I know he will be awake soon and maybe
things will be okay again. Until then I'm stuck
with my thoughts of this sweet loneliness.
Maybe I could compose a sonnet, or try and
speak in pitiless useless metaphors that won't
get me further, then I could throw a penny.

Maybe I could read Shakespeare or H.P Lovecraft.
Just to read true horror stories and know those
words will swill my mind into gush more than anything
else. Knowing how old those stories are, I like the
smell of musty dust that is sprinkled on the pages.
Even if I do wiggle my nose every ten seconds and
begin the symphony of sneezes. I'll light that candle
again I know.

I'll become aware of my music and change it into a
different tune. One that would fit my mood. I turn
on Anthony & the Johnsons. It has become quite a
favorite. The Lake. It's a beautiful song that is living
poetry sung into words that wrench my heart. I find
I could write anything to that voice. That takes me
away to a place I can barely explain. Repeat won't
work properly.

So I'll trace my steps just to go back to the song.
And, repeat it until I feel like I can let my soul go
among wings that are flying because of my husbands
words of I love you still lingering in the air. I wait for
him to wake. Tangling back into the blankets.
Watching the moon soar across the lovely star-filled
sky. I wonder if she ever misses her half, the sun.
If they ever meet in a surreal universe. To be forever
apart. To never touch.

It is a sadness that is deeper then anything in this world.
I sigh, watching the flames dance across my walls.
It has now been eleven hours since he's gone to sleep.
I hope he's dreaming of me, something sweet.
Something that will break my heart later on in the greatest
way possible.

I don't feel so afraid.
Knowing he's dreaming of me.
Perhaps something of the sweetest kind.

I wait.
Another hour or so to go.
Then I can rest knowing my angel is watching
over me, keeping me safe.

I feel so alone.
I blow out the candle again.

It holds no warmth.

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others