insomnolence of a heart

I.

Color drains from quickened breath
and ebb of day is abandoned;
one could believe it was stolen by obscurity
or possibly just a wish for lost sight, answered
as the poison of night pumps through veins
unveiled only in the looking glass of truths.

It was her reflection,
and only his shadow with forswearing hand that wipes brow; 
an appetite wrestling with sheets among the black,
they have become flags of surrender
to bloodshot eyes.

Go ahead, take a final breath
before realization shines through the window pane,
this was not death, but another day
rising from the ashes of night,
draining the black from a ticking clock.




II.

It was not until he found distraction that nights became sleepless. The haunting songs of laughter delicately laced with blushing charm. How could one not reminisce of these enchanting expressions nightly? His eyes collided with darkness these days, wanting nothing more than to speak the words that had stolen his nights; the flattened dreams that eroded the tiny bits of soul he exposed.

In the day, his coat pockets held wayward hands that wrote on small shreds of paper as denial grew wings and soared overhead. It was not sunlight that kept him warm through the winter months, but a reflection out of reach.

Soon every night had become limbo, and he struggled as the black of sleepless nights clamped down upon his throat.  Bitter truth brought death, did it not?  For he buried himself as day broke, time and time again.




III.

Curse the sleepless night
as thoughts eclipse sight,
dance of sugar plum fairies
strained through broken nets,
shy heart bleeds regrets
of wishes on Antares.

Singing praise in hearts
before day departs,
lullabies of destruction
laced within black hours,
wilting frail flowers
of a growing seduction.

All lost in stained clutch
fate’s design as such,
a fading silhouette haunts
twisted soul now tossed
as light and dark crossed
death is coaxed from black, but taunts.