I often wake up falling
In and out of fantasies
Following a rabbit into its' rabit hole
Not knowing where I went wrong.
I often miss you intensly
Grocery shopping is not an opportuned time
Dinner will always be ready
Call me next year.
I often want to believe
There's so much good in affirmation
Dodging the nay-sayers
Still no sleep.
*And I write because I'd rather spill words than tears, but my breaths all gone even though I'm still here*
Each of us gets a certain number of genes from the mother and the father. Sleep is the one gift I would wish you had inherited from me. As a child, with an innate sense of when my body was beginning to run down, my sweet mother would gently tell me to get in the car. Like a sedative, I learned to close my eyes and travel in my dreams any place I wanted to be. When we arrived at the doctor's office, I had somehow garnered the strength to withstand the needle that seemed so huge to push the thick, gelatin-like gamma globulin into my veins. I knew how much better I would feel after. Sleep became my escape - the temporary relief from thoughts I didn't want to think. Seeing people I love struggle so much to get to the place I go in times of pain, makes me recognize what a gift sweet sleep is. (I wish I could write, though)!
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