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Awake

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The nights where every spring in your mattress stabs into you like knives.
The nights when your brain is a bee hive of thoughts.
The nights when the moon shines slightly too bright threw your window.

These are the nights when sleep doesn't come knocking at your door.
These are the nights where he waits for an invitation to the party that never comes.
He sees your 3am thoughts posted on your news feed and wishes he was there;
But he isn't.
He sits patiently waiting for that invitation;
Night, after night.

One day he gets so frustrated he forgets to knock and comes barging in,
But when he comes you are never there;
So he leaves as quick as he came,
And wonders why he bothered.

But you remain wide eyed;
Staring at the ceiling,
Waiting.

Every sound like a gunshot awakening you from that little visit you get from sleep.
And then you are back to reality;
Feeling every spring as it stabs you.
Your brain pounding with too many bees for this bee hive;
Awake.

These are the nights where I miss you the most.
My insides go hollow,
And my head becomes a spinning top.
Making me unable to see straight;
Drunk.

What have I done to deserve this?
Sleep is your best friend.
The best friend you stole from me.
He longs to be back by my side....
But you don't.
You appear in my night mares and my poetry,
But never at my door.

So I remain sleepless and empty;
Waiting.
Waiting for a moment that will never happen.
Awake.





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