There's a nail,
he's set up camp in my brain.
Hammered with daylight,
held infuriatingly fast by night.
Even the stiffest claw
would be of no use,
not anymore.
His presence would herald slumber,
were I of a normal stock.
But no. He brings attention to
the tick. The tock.
If I inch him further,
with fervour,
maybe he will abdicate,
adjacent to his entry.
But I know he'll return,
pitching by the morn,
leaving my rest
completely,
utterly,
torn.

I sleep on white bed sheets
with the windows open
so the breeze can brush my face
and the rain can fall on my lips.
I sleep in the gray half-light that
washes the color from my walls.

My skin is bare, fingers tangled in
the blankets, hair drying in the
same air that dries the dew
off of the leaves.

Get drunk on dreams
crumple the sheets
ice packs and underwear
poetry, bracelets, books.

I sleep with tearstained cheeks
swollen eyes and a runny nose
and bite marks in my mouth.
I sleep with a heavy heart
and fingertips on fire.

Dizzy, fuzzy eyesight
and fantastic scenarios
played out like film in my head.

I sleep in the warmest
and coldest room of my house.
I sleep under quilts and blankets
curled up against the cold,
and I sleep naked
with the air warm against my skin.

I always sleep with a book
at my bedside
and the drapes opened
so I can see the stars.

I sleep through sunsets and sunrises
and lightning that cracks open the sky.
I sleep through delicate snowstorms
and hazy summer smoke.

I sleep by myself
and I seize the quiet
as a moment of my own,
not shared
not secret.

I sleep for life and rebirth
and tranquility,
for peace and second chances.
I sleep for mornings.

Her feelings caused by you scare
A mere mortal.
Can not possible endure the weight
anything less than a divine would tire
Yet she does not share
to anyone that could help her lift the burden

Burden?

She has placed this on herself

Her lips frozen, cemented
It is all her doing
Did feelings really cause this?
How can they take away
A humans most treasured prize

It is not them it is her.

She has placed the devil on a pedastal.
Stupid girl
He is not really there, they are not really frozen
You are not really frozen

Were feelings even shared?

She cried.
She dies.
She's broken inside.
How much longer?
How many days?
Before she gets to end the pain?
She doesn't mean it.
She doesn't like to cry.
But what should she do?
What should she say?
All she knows is happiness doesn't stay.
She tried to smile.
She tried to sing.
But no one knows the tune...
So they weren't listening.  
She told them to listen.
She told them to hear.
But they broke her sprit.
They caused her fears.
Was she too fat?
Was she too thin?
Was she too ugly?
Can she ever win?
They said he pain was just for show...
But when she hung herself emotionally...
I wondered how they still didn't know?
Did they know she was hurting?
She didn't know they cared.
They were too late now.
Her sprit was crushed.
She just gave up.
No matter how hard she tried.
It wasn't right.
All she dreams of is dying...
Where's the light?
She gave up because it wasn't enough.
Its never enough.