Sleep, for me, is a very rare thing to come by,
Like a sultry mistress of the night, it dances lusciously around me, but when comes to contact is awfully shy.
~
I wrestle with my pillows like I wrestle with my thoughts, it's a constant battle I must fight every night,
But when and if the darkness then finally descends, I fall asleep to morning light.
~
I wake up, I spend my day getting lost in the world, but then night comes again and I must start anew.
My head hits the pillow and I once again I find myself thinking of you.
~
I close my eyes, and you haunt me in my nightmares, but also in my dreams,
The saddest fucking part of it is, that I don't mind one bit, because these days that's the closest thing I'll get to intimacy, it seems,
~
It's a fucked up feeling when you wake up and wish you could sink into your nightmares again,
When you realize the nightmares are better than your real life - I dare you not to go fucking insane.
~
Insomnia is a bitch, but these days so is unconsciousness,
Your face is everywhere, your smell, your taste - my therapist tells me, in a nutshell, that's the cause of my damn stress.
~
We both agreed that this is what we wanted, I believe our exact words to each other were: 'It's for the best.'
But what we failed to consider was that neither of us sleep well alone, and now we aren't getting any fucking rest.
