Insomnia - She comes to me.



Picture from www.sodahead.com


She comes to me, at the most inopportune of times.
The first time we danced, I was trying to learn the language of a former oppressor.
She added to my list of problems.
To the sickness of home.
To the longing for my better half
To the accumulating number of worries.
She came to me and I wanted her gone, and when she was finally gone,
I was never the same.

She comes to me, even when I don’t want her to.
The second time we danced, I was picking up the million pieces that my heart broke into.
She added to my pain.
To the endless list of regrets.
To the ghosts that haunted my heart.
To the fear that I’d lost my soul’s mate.
She came to me and I wanted her gone, and when she was finally gone,
I was never the same.

Picture from www.sodahead.com

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