Wednesday, January 05, 2011

Prose From a Near Insomniac.

          I, at night, have been occupying such a sorrowfully poetic environment that it is nearly impossible and borderline unacceptable for me not to immortalize my encounters, by hand, on bound pages.  I knowingly dove headfirst into a whirlpool of conflicting emotions.  900 miles away resides a man smitten with me; I left him wallowing in the dust of a Volkswagen belonging to a man just a tad more exciting at the moment.  Barreling through Jersey, Delaware, Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, and Kentucky, I knew no regret.  Something about the driver to my left veiled my conscience.  Was it his spontaneity? His mysterious persona?  The way he put a smile on my face with little to no effort?  I could continue to list the ‘maybes’, but that would be superfluous.   I’m sure the true reason I find myself in his bed nightly, is because I’m aware that I will never enter his heart.  One will always chase what they cannot have, it’s true… So I’ll chalk it up to that.  Either way, Friday’s sunrise will bring a literal half-world separation between us for another year, and I will return home to the man whose love for me will run down his cheeks as I attempt to console him… as I attempt to console myself.  It’s no mystery as to why sleep tends to escape me at night.
*Amber

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