It is Always and Only You

The distance between awake and asleep

becomes too far to traverse with each hour.

The darkness of the room encroaches and creeps,

it seeps with a perverse, corrosive power,

subversive in its absolute destructive purity,

with a proclivity to disguise the onslaught’s intensity.

It saturates and permeates every crosswise thought

with an accumulation of sporadic dreams,

enigmatic, beautiful, and cruel, each brought

hope to the razor edge of bipolar extremes.

A desperation that cuts across the mind and skin

stems from the horror of another night filled with you again.

Faint light bounces off the face in the mirror.

The reflection, so dismissible and ignorable, screams

“Hideous in every way!” in spite, she spits at her.

Insidious how each imperfection, even in darkness, gleams.

So-I-die, a constant option lingers.

Behind every action it triggers

memories of so many years of irredeemable isolation

that only ever tore the heart apart.

A never worn out nor understood desolation,

with no other foreseeable way to depart

from the simultaneous prayers

for instantaneous rest without nightmares,

or care reciprocated for care.

A deep need to feel, by just one, worthy.

She imagines how wonderful such a mercy would be.

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