Insomnia
Robyn Russell
Nights like these— when your
touch is a tremble of a cold hand
on colder skin
and in our asylum we dance
in the naked light of black candles
and look through the skylight
for a star to wink but don't
have the patience to wait
Nights like these—
when the room is filled with smoke
hungry eyes quench desire
the music is me and I am the music
and together
we move in hypnotic ways
before you
Nights like these— when the
darkness is unbinding,
and disturbing
landscapes unfold like
dreams hidden behind capes
masking temptation
Nights like these— when reality fades
this is all it is
tonight will be forever and no other
swooning in the elixir oblivion
of illicit sensation
Nights like these—
when castle walls burn in murmuring nightmares
and I know no one will ever take my hand again
to absolve my suffering insomnia.
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