It’s in the night,
when light recedes to leave me with my thoughts
and the darkness encompasses every crevice of my room and of my mind,
that the person I am is most illuminated.
In those long hours
that stretch with lack of sleep
my thoughts are as clear as a cloudless blue sky.
On good nights, there'll be thoughts of my future, of my hopes and my dreams.
On good nights my imagination will soar to heights beyond the sky
for on good nights not even the sky is the limit.
But good nights are rare and most nights,
the darkness seeps into my thoughts
with the past.
with each and every imperfection that owns me.
All my weaknesses and fears
are painted on a black canvas
portraying the things I’m so afraid the world will see.
my cowardess,
loneliness,
hopelessness.
my fears of betrayal
of feeling too much,
caring too much,
loving too much…yet not enough.
Like tendrils of smoke
the thoughts linger on one fear then float away
only to be replaced by another.
As my eyelids become cinemas of the past,
images of innocence lost flash behind my eyelids
Almost as if they’re stuck on repeat
Sometimes, I embrace those nights
As if they were an old friend.
I wonder if that makes me masochistic but
Truth is those nights,
difficult though they may be,
are the times I’m most honest with myself.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
It’s in the night,
when light recedes to leave me with my thoughts
and the darkness encompasses every crevice of my room and of my mind,
that the person I am is most illuminated.
In those long hours
that stretch with lack of sleep
my thoughts are as clear as a cloudless blue sky.
On good nights, there'll be thoughts of my future, of my hopes and my dreams.
On good nights my imagination will soar to heights beyond the sky
for on good nights not even the sky is the limit.
But good nights are rare and most nights,
the darkness seeps into my thoughts
with the past.
with each and every imperfection that owns me.
All my weaknesses and fears
are painted on a black canvas
portraying the things I’m so afraid the world will see.
my cowardess,
loneliness,
hopelessness.
my fears of betrayal
of feeling too much,
caring too much,
loving too much…yet not enough.
Like tendrils of smoke
the thoughts linger on one fear then float away
only to be replaced by another.
As my eyelids become cinemas of the past,
images of innocence lost flash behind my eyelids
Almost as if they’re stuck on repeat
Sometimes, I embrace those nights
As if they were an old friend.
I wonder if that makes me masochistic but
Truth is those nights,
difficult though they may be,
are the times I’m most honest with myself.
