Lying Awake

Fancy’s Pants

this is what happens when i try to go to sleep. here is the written poem: I still lie in bed thinking about you. I don’t think it’s a habit i can break just yet. As i position myself to the right side of the pillow, i turn my head over to the left Imagining you facing my direction with your own eyes I still want to snuggle my face into your chest, to relieve the worries i have of this world. to just meditate on the beat of your heart, on the pattern of your breathing. I still want to lay my lips on your soft cheeks, just so i could taste the hope I still have for you, for us. But sometimes it feels wrong to imagine this Because youve moved on and it’s something i need to respect. But even still, i still want to share moments of intimacy with your freshly-washed hair against the side of my face, the tight grip of your arms, the sturdy, softly-warmed hands holding mine Both feel wrong, of losing you and holding on. I don’t know what i should do, in many ways, im just a confused girl trapped in a clear box where i can see the outside but cant reach out. where my mind wanders back on familiar roads in attempt to retrace my steps and see in which moment i took the wrong turn Maybe you have no idea that this is a routine for me. brush my teeth cover my icy toes with a thick blanket Grab the red panda you bought me at Walmart... as you’ve frequently reminded me of your unique find.. And lie, staring at the ceiling in complete darkness trying to focus my mind to fall asleep but i cant bc you continue to work my brain, where my melatonin is suppressed I lie awake... reminded of every memory your body contact with mine, of what it felt like for pulses to be driven sky high when my hand would gently graze yours. As I lie awake, i feel the urge to release my emotions, the tears i tried to hold back but the pressure on the dam broke through and my eyes have become a leaky faucet. One night, I can recall so vividly. It was the first time I lied awake, staring at the ceiling. Being unable to stop the flow of tears coming from my eyes, down the sides of my face, soaking into the pillow beneath me. First time I didn’t want to imagine you on my left side of the bed. First time I turned my head over and didn’t see you through my imagination First time I felt you gone Felt empty yet there was something still stuck in me.