Coffee for One

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There are nights like this
when sleep simply
eludes me
and the weight
of the world
seems (impossibly)
to gather upon
my shoulders.
There are fragments
of reality
and visions of
lies, alternate universes,
unspoken desires,
all melding (into swirls of cream)
and meddling with
my mind.
There are nights like this
when words are born
from dreams
and dreams
are born from silences,
inanimate and intimate nights.

But waking up

It’s always going to be
a little
painful,
an empty embrace,
the cold floor,
the thin mat,
the fears, the feels.

I wake up to dream
and in dreams,
I come alive.

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