Insomnia Poetry Cafe 2

Again, in those wee hours where sweet is sweeter and missing is longing.

I think of you, by John Siddique, from Full Blood

Is it reassuring all to know that someone with a facility for words knows my heart and has loved the way I love? It is, maybe. That very early hours stretch is when missing turns into longing. Then sleep circles back around again and there may be dreams but I suspect it’s a blessing not to remember them upon waking.

Wake up again and fill the day with busy things and then sleep again when sleep decides to come. Insomnia is like the nurse that comes in hourly on the night shift to see how you’re feeling. Let me drift you crazy bitch. Just let me drift. Don’t putter about. Don’t refill the water now. And please, don’t just stand there looking, or lecture me about how important rest is. Come or go, but don’t just stand there.

Let me do my missing and longing and thinking and second guessing in peace.

Thanks.

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