My bed...
It calls to me
Beckoning
Enticing
Promising
That sweet relief from wakefulness
So much time spent
Sleeping
But there are no regrets
Each day
I ask for sleep to take me
Longer than the day before
Keep me out of my
waking nightmare
and let me
dream sweet nothings
Oh, Sleep
Take me from this place
Take me somewhere new
Take me away from myself
Maybe then
I will be free
I will start anew
I will breathe and want to wake.
About the Creator
ian.
Quiet thoughts plant stronger seeds than aggressive force. ian is a poet who has spent most of their time rewriting the world in their head. ian is heavily inspired by nature and loves to be an observer of the world, both urban and natural.
Dead and Wearing Green
She was wearing that green dress when I first saw her, five years ago to the day. Flowing meadow fabric draped over long legs, thick auburn hair flowing down her back. That smile. Of course, she is still beautiful now. But now she is no longer alive.
By Karen Cave7 days ago in Fiction
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