Sunday, 23 November 2014

The Night, Talks.

Bed before ten, I try to make up for lost hours of sleep. I wake at 3:30am with the sudden urge to cry. As though I had slipped out of some tragic dream I cannot remember. A tear rolls wrong ways down my cheek, drips into my ear. "it's exactly what you think it is"
That song. The song I can't listen to again. Some part of me wants to play it.
But I've dissected the lyrics enough already. Enough already. Let it go.
Stop torturing yourself by hoping the truth is not the truth.
The house is empty. My stomach grumbles about being fed. So I eat cereal in the dark as I write.
In loneliness you get lost. When it bites, you think it has no end. That alone is all you will ever be.
Yet of course. Everything has an end...And alone is not always loneliness.
But in the midst of the night. In darkness, with rain falling against my window.
It feels like the only thing that exists.
And it swallows me whole.

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