Quiet Night

Dear quiet night,

Confusion, whether it’s real or just the reality I’ve given it

Anger at my confusion, for it keeps me up at night

Unwillingness to create that space, for reasons too fearful for mouths

My lips never falter the terms that swirl in my head

That constant stream of what ifs

It’s small and round, like a distant dirty penny

The dot in the right hand corner of my ceiling

I silently spill my thoughts to the night, the dot soaking in endless drama

It taunts me, as I lie awake, waiting for the dot to show me clarity

But it never shows me

Remaining the incessant blotch that seems to know more about me than I know myself

Tonight we meet again for our usual talk, but something’s different

I’m angry. Very angry.

I don’t know why, it fills me like water slowly drowning a fire that refuses to squelch

The numerous faces cheaply taped to the wall laugh at my facade

You idiot. You’re the girl in the movie that you always hate

Useless and weak, never ends up adding any real substance

But you’re not that girl. You know that.

I hush the whispers of gossip that fill my half empty home

What do they know, right?

Or do they know it all…and I’m the clueless one.

Sincerely,

Temporary Insomniac