Poems from an Insomniac

~ Ca. 2011-2012, ed. 2019 ~


Tick tocks echoing

all around,

heart beats booming

through flimsy cotton.

A hand at my breast

but they would not still,

vibrations breaking free.

Harsh and heavy breaths

swallowed by the darkness.

Everything seems dead–

the night is silent.


Barely there

I used to sleep all right at night. No pixie dust was needed to shut my eyes and fly me off to dreamland. But these nights that pass by, I linger on the edge of peaceful slumber and restless wandering; wanting so much to fall and never remember a thing until my skin is drenched in daylight again and familiar morning rhythms stir my senses.


Sleeping to dream

Somewhere between the whirring din of the fan and the soft, melodious rustling of chimes by my window is a suspended dream. There was freedom in your arms and love in tingling waves as skin grazes skin.

I wake up to faded walls of familiarity.


No Regrets

Sometimes I want to

scrub myself raw

of your indelible ink,

and flush the brushes of our chemistry;

Bury my flame in sepia pages

still burning brightly

for anyone

but me


In 2046

The things we don’t say, I’m so full of them. I have to empty my cup and start all over again. Or whisper them all into a hollow, and cover it with earth. Anything, anything, just to be light again.



Your love, I wear it well. Wrapped around a pink stone that sits on my bosom, beating in unison with my heart.

Your dreams, I keep them well. Stacked neatly on a shelf, easy to reach like my favorite books.

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