And the worst part is thinking it might never stop.
At night the sheets seem to catch me in their trap - legs bound, I toss and turn,
trying to fight off the memories that inundate me with their images,
of a thousand past regrets.
I feel their haunting steps pushing me further from sleep, away from happiness, away from bliss.
I watch as moonlight breaks through the blinds leaving streaks across my covers,
causing shivers to creep up my spine no blankets can supress.
Even as I slip my arm through to his cold space next to where my head rests,
begging for the key to the chains that link me to this solitude I created,
as though the ghost of his form will free me more than any other.
When really the only person who can, lies warm inside my bed, tangled in my sheets, tossing and turning as she can’t sleep.
Waiting for haunting memories to leave so she can close her eyes, free from all her dreams.
But running from the mirror image only works if you don’t stop,
so turn around.
It’ll all work out ok.
