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The Colors of Insomnia

A Poem

Some nights I smoke cigarettes

 And chase with liquor,

but nothing gives me more heart burn

than the memory of you carved inside it.


I'm not an alcoholic

and the only thing I'm addicted to is you,

and the void I try and fill to replace you.


Nothing works,

it's only destroying my outsides

as you destroy my insides.

I honestly don't know which will win the race.


I can't fall asleep to save my life

and so here I lie practically dead,

in a coma of the various shades of my life

but you're my favorite color of insomnia.


Synesthesia is a great party trick

but it's not as fun to always 

be consumed with the colors of the words 

racing through my mind.


And the dreadful feeling of dim grey, 

knowing you're gone.


However,

the longer I think of you,

the more bright and shocking 

pops of yellow and blue flood in.


Then come the deep reds

and the magentas that devour me

But I always end up back at grey.


The cycle repeats its self 

until I fade out of it all,

not remembering how or when,

I just wake up to that same ringing in my ears,

until the rest of my senses kick in.


AgainI'm surrounded

 by the same hues of the day.

Though dependent on the season,

until they too become-


A memory,

a feeling,

and a color all their own.


A lot of said memories are mixed and faded

but those of you 

have never been anything 

but clear and vibrant.


So in the morning,

afternoon,

or whenever I may arise, 

it's easier to let the pigments 

do their regular dance routine

than it is at night 

when they swallow me whole.


But the nights I see 

and feel 

your levels of intensities,

those are the good nights.


      -Megan El

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The Colors of Insomnia
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