postmidnight misery.

it's not enough to write about the loneliness anymore,
or conjure metaphors that will be accurate enough.
i would cry right now if someone walked into my room
and gingerly tucked me in - my heart would burst.
sometimes, i think i torture myself imagining these scenarios,
someone comforting me in the perfect, most gentle way.
sometimes, allowing myself to live inside of a fantasy
is the only way to make the loneliest moment temporarily okay.

it's been hard to coexist with the shadows, recently.
i've been wondering why nighttime provokes such dread.
perhaps it's because i have to face the stark loneliness
in the most obvious way, bedsheets without a promised shape.
there is only so much i can distract myself with beforehand.
perhaps it's knowing i'll most likely wake up tomorrow the same,
the dread remaining even if it's lessened a shade or two.
perhaps it's the fear of leaving a dream prematurely,
one i wish could have been a real, tangible memory.

i can't cast out the loneliness,
drown it, stifle it, or cut it out.
i have to somehow live with it,
even if it feels unbearable.