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Saturday, 15 August 2015

Ode to insomnia

It's not as it used to be:
the world's the same
the same alphabet and familiar words
occasional reasons to smile to myself
many reasons to laugh
in the predetermination
scripted surreptitiously
in mind maps and diurnal routes;
the clouds pattern differently
but it's still all cloud
I wait for rain
like I've waited for sun;
but it's not like it used to be
between us
the gives and takes
of everyday and every night
when we took universe in palm
let slip through fingers
every grain of hurt
and kiss love dust remnant
and softly imprint cheek and forehead
in the soft marking of comforts;
it's not like it used to be
with she so far away
and I lost in orbits
of choice and circumstance;
it's not like it used to be
between us,
but she texts
from a stolen phone,
'good night'
and I just can't sleep.

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