I have a history
of never sleeping at night.
My eyes never stay shut in the black of my room
because the smell of coffee
laced in my pillow case
fills my nose like old tissues
on a cloudy day.
The congestions never let me sleep long enough
to leave faint sounds of snoring
plastered to my empty walls.

The sales on new sheets
never help my sleep cycles,
tainted with mornings
of caffeine arguments.
The two of us always had
a complicated relationship.

It keeps me awake at night
like a lover I never really
came face to face with,
but in the mornings,
it made me fuzzy
with an extra shake
in my exhausted legs.

Yet, I never stop
pulling into the local grocer
on my way home at night
to restock the liquid buzz,
far too cheap to taste good,
but always keeping my tongue warm
when I’m up every night.