It's not often this happens to me.
Rare, really.
This sleeplessness, the why-can't-I-fall-asleep thing.
I can instantly see how frustrating it is for those it happens to more often than not.
Why, in this chance of me getting to sleep in, have I not fallen asleep yet? What am I supposed to do? I was tired earlier.
That good old feel it behind you eyes thing. The 'I'll be asleep as soon as I lie down' thing.
But.
What.
Happened?

Whatever you wanted from me was not what you needed from me.

I won't carve my name in the tree of your heart; but I will write it in the sand of your soul.

Let the rain fall slowly on me so I can catch it in my hands,
on my face and into my mouth.
Let me drink it in like no other.
It is the rain, it is me.

Watching the rain in slow motion is like watching the best parts of life wash over you. Savor it. I just want to be in it.
In all kinds; the slow magical rain like a romance, fast and hard like the way my heart hammers at times, all at once and over so quickly just like a love known to some.

I can't run away fast enough.  The feeling always catches me.
I put on a show for others just so they can't see what is underneath.
I feel it in my chest; it hurts, it aches, it is constant.
I feel like crying all. The. Time. If only to feel that release. But does it ever happen? No, not really.

Sometimes the need,
the urge,
to write is overwhelming,
but the words won't flow.

The river is dammed
and one day it may burst.
Will you be there
to witness it?

A month ago today
I was told I'd need surgery.
A month later
I feel fine.

A month later
it doesn't even feel like a month, but more like a lifetime.  
I've experienced things I never thought I would.
I sit back and think of how amazing it all is.

They said it would take four weeks to recover, but that happened long before.

As dreams of pink elephants ran through my head, you held me without my asking.  But in those moments that you caressed my hands, I was awake enough to know.  I felt the soft kisses you placed in my hair and on my arms.  You put up with the constant moving while I slept, keeping comforting arms around my body.  I didn't ask for the kindness, but you didn't need my permission anyway.  The elephants paraded on, singing their song, and I dozed comfortably in the well needed warmth of your arms.

These things we wear,
sometimes feel like contraptions.
Restricting freedom but
providing protection.
So many ways and styles,
the possibilities are endless.
Through heat and cold
always an accessory,
even if they are not on our feet.
They go everywhere with us,
seeing even what we do not.

There they stand
in groups of twos or threes,
waiting for a hand
by the trees.
They are not exact,
but still the same.
Hopefully things will stay intact,
never being dead or lame.
Who do they wait for?
Maybe some shall see.
Another kind or
maybe a girl set free
from her dungeon down the hall,
into his arms she will fall.