in a dark and somber midnight crushed velvet blue room, lies a delicate woman with sullen pouty ruby lips that turn into a frown
amberish honeyed hair that fans out in glory
trickling salty tears of sadness and rage
piercing stormy grey eyes that shine a kaleidscope of emotions in a instance
porcelain cloaked skin with powder blue veins draped in grace to decor defeated in life by a single ***** of a venomous spindle forever in a eternal sleep

Bittersweet poetry why you call me at night
Sleeping just to make me ***** your holy ink.

Bittersweet poetry I'm only a child let me be
Don't mess this innocence you don't know.

All right I'm as innocent as you
Let me at least hold my breath
And after my bleed in thy honor, rest.

When I can't sleep at night
Do you know what I do?
I lay in my bed
and I think about you.
I think of funny moments
and moments that were sad,
times where you comforted me,
and times where we held hands.
Because when I think of you,
I feel the most comforting warmth inside.
You calm the rushing waves,
and create a perfect tide.

Exhaustion is putting raucous children to bed
Left to their own devices they'll  pain your head
Once you've finally settled them down
Your face will be stuck in a perma-frown
Later when you check if everything's OK
They'll look like angels sleeping away  
Don't be fooled by this little deception
Angelic sleeping children are the exception
Be ever aware, certain to stay on your toes
There may be nightmares, as everyone knows.....

Every night I wait for you
The only one ,
which can give me peace
take away the restlessness
away from fatigue, stress
Make me dream
as far as my imagination takes
be with me as day breaks

Though some nights
you come late
Make me count stars and sheep
then take me away in trip

But still the only thing I yearn at night
and some times , at other times too
is to sleep , a nice amount of sleep
Sleep away too deep

I keep my mouth closed,
using super glue like it's chapstick.
Lips sealed but hands free, writing my secrets into poetry,
I sometimes feel very cowardly only being able to share empty words about my empty feelings  to empty faces on this empty stage.
Empty.
I don’t cry as often as I should, maybe I’m just drained, maybe I’ve just emptied
The drain that connects my tear glands to the rest of my body.
And on the off chance I cry-
my pillow must have nightmares from my screams,
and sometimes- sometimes I hear my pillow sobbing with me.