I feel I’ve been waking at 2:45 in the morning religiously over the last several months.
Staring into the bleached darkness of my living room
Neck strained from falling asleep on the couch again
A light sweat that traces down my chest and pools between my breasts
Finding myself unable to will the sleep back into me.
I’m starting to think that even my loneliness wants company
And with vehement intention
It pulls me out of the only place I’m able to dull my own emotions.
Silently screaming a reminder of where I’m at and how I got here.
As though a full length mirror is floating over my body
And I’m desperately searching for my reflection
My meek existence
Among all of the familiar things in my home.
It’s these moments where I’m so grateful to hear my son’s sweet breath rising and falling in the next room;
In what should be my room.
I can feel him there
In a complete state of comfort
And warmth
And out of harm’s way.
In that instant
I can see parts of me
Filling in the shadows of the mirror where my body should be
But even then
The room is still dark
And I strain to meet the gaze of my own eyes.
I’ve found self-worth again after betrayal;
But continue to misplace it.
I’ve endured abuse and have had strength to escape it;
But allow it to continue to haunt me.
I’ve regrettably suffered loss at my discretion;
Not for the sake of morality
But out of necessity.
I’m difficult to love
And will selflessly offer mine without hesitation.
Naive and couth in the same breath.
I read somewhere once that heartbreak is palpable
Yet seemingly lasts only a few short moments;
Suffering beyond several minutes is simply self-sabotage in overthinking;
Akin to the brief pain you feel when stubbing your toe by accident
But overreacting as a child might to the sudden sensation.
I think a sociopath made that up.
Perhaps my religion is heartbreak
And I’m being called by the consecrated church of my past
To slip out of the comfort of slumber;
To acknowledge the echo of despondency within myself
And devoutly meditate in it before sunrise.