𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗒

12 | LAMP LIGHT WOES

it's ten past one, christmas morning
i can't bring myself to sleep in peace
the welcome darkness is suffocating
the old lava lamp beams eerily red
it shines down on me; fluorescent

i stare into it as if it has something to say
i believe if it could speak, it would stay silent
staring through me accusingly— pitying me
the cherry glow knows all my secrets

i toss and turn, my bones aching; restless
the shower would have soothed me
the bed sheets still maintain the somber smell that id painfully scrubbed from my skin

some nights i wrap my arms around myself
and the desperate grip holds me and all of my broken pieces

i forget that they're my arms sometimes—
i forget that im alone

and even when i cannot hear the indication of your breath and the weary presence of your heart next to mine after a long day of overwork

sometimes i imagine they're you're arms holding me tightly and not my own

the lava lamp looks upon me in silence
shining through the facade of my restless eyes, it reveals the calamity

i can only apologise to the light
for all the nights it watched me writhe
for the red shimmer reflecting in my eyes each grey tumultuous a.m.

but apologies would never be enough

the words of gratitude— the rehearsed scriptures of sorrow

it could never compare to the lifetime of accepting silence that the lamp gifted me each night as i inadvertently tortured it with my gloom

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3:17 PM 25th Dec, 2019