Once again, the television is the candlelight to the sleepless night.
I stare at the ceiling and it stares back at me with balloons for eyes. I yawn and yet my eyes cease to close as if fear of darkness. The pitter patter outside my window reminds me that time is passing. It is at this lonely hour that I choose to piece together my mind.
Do you mind?
Twelve am and I am dreading tomorrow as if it isn't already here.
As my hand brushes pass my own cold empty shadow; the space only he could fill.
And as hackneyed as it sounds; I miss his warmth.
All the rain cant muddy the sands of time in his hand.
We plant images with grains of sand; silhouettes of heat and man.
With time those images will grow.
So then the radio sings some old christmas tune and I choke on boulders in my throat.
The happiest tune gives me the coldest chill because this tune will only be heard by me Tonight.
Oh the bittersweet taste of goodbye as it chases me steadily.
I will see him again; my dearest friend, and he’ll cradle me in your smile.
With time, distance disappears.
What is distance to love but shade to the sunflower?
So that lump of coal in my throat turns to gold. And just this once I let myself cry.
Golden tears. Rich tears.
So now I lay myself to sleep and put to rest my mind.
Fingerprints cover my mind.
I don’t mind.