i couldn't sleep that night.
i stayed up, now awake
for eighteen hours.
i didn't want to sleep that night.
what would happen if i closed my eyes?
a new day. that's what.
how would i react to the new day?
would everyone move on
like they didn't just yell at me
eight hours ago?
like they didn't just slap me?
i couldn't move on.
the guilt is still within me.
i can't even look at them
in the eyes,
without the need to tear up.
how can they talk to me
like nothing happened?
i can't do that.
something happened.
the guilt is still within me.
how can they move and act
after all that?
they say to move on, but i can't.
the guilt is still within me.
i won't sleep until i'm free.
- so i guess i'll sleep when i'm dead.
YOU ARE READING
Almost | ✓
PoetryIsn't that the saddest word? Almost. Something with so much potential... but just didn't happen. We were almost lovers. We almost lived. These were almost stories. ●●● [ a collection of poems ] highest ranking: #3 [[ 08_03_16 ]]
