Part-time Insomniac

I need to sleep
but I can't bear to dream
about you again.
And the way your fingers feel on my
skin when
you walked with my hand in yours
but yours not quite in mine.

I have small hands.
It was always a source of laughter
for you as I struggled to
form a chord on your astronomic guitar.

It's no wonder I couldn't fit my hand around
yours when that guitar seems miniscule
next to your chest.

Instead of dreaming
I listen to the songs we wrote together.

I'm not sure how it's any better
other than that
I can control what I hear
in those lyrics and
I can't control what I see in those dreams.

Your face tears me apart.

It's been five days now
and I'm living in a lull.
My eyes are dry and watering
and I'm aware of this always faint sobbing
but I can't place exactly where it's coming from.

My chest hurts.

Maybe my heart is too big for
someone as small as me.
I am, after all really small.

My hands fit my body pretty well.
So did yours.

And maybe that's why I can't ever
seem to breathe.
My heart is taking up all the
room inside me.
Am I suffocating?

You really should have let me give my heart to you.

But that's okay.
I'll learn to deal with my too big heart
because I'm a big girl
and big girls take care of themselves.

Big girls also learn to say goodbye.

So I guess this is goodbye now,
my love.


This is the goodbye you never gave
me when you decided
I didn't just not fit in your
hands the way you wanted,
or your guitar;
I didn't fit in your life the way you wanted.

So you left me to struggle.

But I'm not struggling anymore.

I'm going to lay my head down
and fall into a blissful sleep
full of blissful dreams
full of the painful goodbyes we never really had.