Insomnia—
a lie I cradle like a rosary, whispered bead by bead
into every hour I refuse to surrender.
I choose this ache again and again,
with no apology in the morning.

refusing sleep is not the same as refusing rest.
for only God knows how hollowed I’ve become,
how my bones hum lullabies
my heart won't believe.

this is my weary body's only plea,
"close your eyes. let go. let be."
I chose to ignore just to watch another aurora borealis
dancing softly across my ceiling,
as if it was a secret sky made just to keep me sane

darkness is my cathedral,
it hushes the noise,
asks nothing.
while daylight is a debt—
and I am tired of paying.

so I lie here, chest to sorrow,
in the hush between seconds,
while the world forgets my name.

alone is a velvet word wrapped in a 3 a.m. sigh—
and though it bruises, at least it’s mine

let morning come
with its sharp, clean light.
let it knock
I will not answer
let it burn the door down if it must

But tonight—
I stay
with the silence that ache,
and the ghost of who I was
before I called this
peace.