Insomnia

noun; the inability to obtain adequate sleep

I’ve never loved you more than I have,

At stroke of midnight.

Falling a part in your hands, 

Hidden under the shroud of moonlight,

Forever running from the sunrise. 

Easy to hide,

In your twisted web of lies, 

Hot enough to use,

But not beautiful enough,

To fear to loose.

Your secret kept safe with me, 

From here until the end of the line,

Burning in an inferno blaze,

Blinded by the haze.

Your love for me,

Was simply a childhood fantasy, 

I was something for you to play with,

While you bided your time. 

Something fun, new 

And unused,

Something you could truly make “mine”.

And I was so happy to be rescued, 

I couldn’t see,

What was laid out plainly, 

Before me. 

That you would always use me, 

And make me blue.

Take me for everything that I am,

Only to use love to clean,

The soul clenching wound, 

That is still raw 

And covered in glue.

But I will heal past you, 

I know that to be true.

But that doesn’t stop me,

From loving you, 

At every midnight.

Every single midnight.  

Reviews

[willweb]

Wow, this poem made me feel sad inside. The picture that is painted, the used woman, who knows she deserves so much more, to be treated better, to be talked to nicer, to be placed on that pedestal but isn't and still clings because of the love she feels. Though there is one line..."But I will heal past you, I know that to be true." That does give me some hope. You portrayed these emotions wonderfully my friend.

[K.P.H.M]

Thank you so much for your review! This was a hard poem for me to write but it ended up being one of my favourites. I'm glad the emotions I was trying to write about were able to get through. Glad you enjoyed it!