i just can't get over
that night by the lake
do i even have to say
which one i mean?

it was so cold, so, so cold
and we didn't say a word
but i could feel every part of you
against every last part of me

months later
i carved us into
the wood

*heaven was here.

it's so terribly sad
           that unless you're located
  in a place with no or little food
            people are criticized for their weight
            put in boxes
                                                   [overweight]
                                                   [underweight]
and there's no
                                                   [perfect weight]
instead there are people
                               on diets
             to gain
        or to loose
                                                 to attempt to get the
                                                   [perfect weight]
there are adults
                teenagers
                children
                                          who only want food
                                          they're in their own box
                                                                                                      they're [starving]

When you say insomnia,
people think you’ve had too much caffeine.
That it’s something you’ve eaten that day.
That maybe you’re just a little stressed.
Those people do not have insomnia.
Insomnia rolls off the tongue.
It is a noun.
It is four vowels and five consonance.
It is staring at your ceiling at
four o’clock in the morning praying
to God that maybe you’ll sleep tonight.
Insomnia is knowing ahead of time
that you aren’t going to sleep tonight.
It is drinking four cups of coffee at 1:30
in the morning because your eyelids
are so heavy they feel like anvils
are holding them down.
It is seeing shapes and figures in the dark
that aren’t there.
Insomnia is dying a little inside
every time you see the sunrise.
It is watching the moon reach it’s pinnacle
and sink beneath the earth.
Insomnia is your mind working at the speed of light
and taking sixty years.

Insomnia is running a triathlon without training.
It is wondering how long your body
can take the stress before folding in on itself.
It is wondering what the hell is wrong with you
that you can’t function like a normal person.
Insomnia is taking pills that almost make
your waking nightmares look like children’s play
compared to your sleeping nightmares.
Insomnia is having waking nightmares.
It isn’t the inability to focus.
It isn’t easily fixed.
It isn’t something you deal with.
It isn’t caffeine or something you ate.
Insomnia isn’t just a noun.
It’s a disease.

I can tell by the way your eyes react
to the words spilling out of my mouth
that we are no longer on the same wavelength.
There is not the slightest recognition
that flashes within your hazel eyes,
eyes that you gave to me like a
well-preserved replica of a masterpiece-
beautiful, but worthless compared to the original.
It's almost as if I can see my words
materialize into the air between us
and move through your body as if they
could truly personify the common saying,
"your words go right through me."
And even though we obviously aren't
on the same wavelength anymore,
I would at least expect you to pretend
that we are.
Because that's what mothers are
supposed to do, right?
Lie when necessary- it's the least you could do.