I wake up from fevered dreams,
filled with woe and empathy.
How am I to get any rest,
when you haunt me in my sheets?
Everything feels bleak,
nothing's ever as it seems.
I count all and every single sheep,
but I still can't fuckin' sleep.
Those times where I regret waking from slumber,
because dreams appear better than waking life.
Lived, died, bled,
for all words left unsaid.
How could you say you need space - right to my face,
and then walk away?
© 2017 José
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 2:19 AM UTC
I wake up from fevered dreams,
filled with woe and empathy.
How am I to get any rest,
when you haunt me in my sheets?
Everything feels bleak,
nothing's ever as it seems.
I count all and every single sheep,
but I still can't fuckin' sleep.
Those times where I regret waking from slumber,
because dreams appear better than waking life.
Lived, died, bled,
for all words left unsaid.
How could you say you need space - right to my face,
and then walk away?
© 2017 José
B