Midnight Blues

The tedious ticking

And tossing tetchily on the bed,

Wide-eyed. Sleepless.

 

The stars are forlorn,

Sighing, like the dying vestiges

Of wasted hopes harbored.

Synchronized breaths,

Long drawn and sharp

Like a paroxysm of pain,

That singes the heart.

 

The russet stains on the coffee mug,

Blotches on the crumpled paper,

It’s been there for two days now

Yet, seems like forever…

The clock strikes two, and a singular star

Wanders in abstraction

In loneliness, afar…

 

The tedious ticking

And tossing tetchily on the bed,

Why am I wide-eyed? Sleepless?

 

A dry sob escapes,

Parched with a longing

Echoed by the listless barn owl

Snoozing by the window sill.

We share our indolence

In one way, and more;

These, and a few things I’ve learned to ignore.

 

Shadows create motifs on the wall.

They speak of my angst, my insecurities.

Perchance should they overwhelm

And stifle me with their horrors?

There is darkness all around,

And little I can see

Except, maybe, my insecurities…

 

The tedious ticking

And tossing tetchily on the bed,

Wide-eyed, and still sleepless…

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