To be awake
At this hour of the night
Is torture
To yearn for that which is out of reach,
To pine for a touch that belongs to a yesterday long since past,
To dream while robbed of sleep to the point of tears-
It is the human flaw
And oh, so tragic a one at that,
To be unable to return to what was.
We are told that the past is something one can never truly escape
-And yet, we can’t go back
We teeter on the pinprick of NOW
-Infinitely small-
And sharp as the devil’s horns.
It keeps us on our toes.
Wide awake
And wishing upon the stars
Of the dying night.