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By Kase Date: 2002 Dec 26 Comment on this Work [[2002.12.26.20.08.857]] |
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As the first rays of sunlight hover in the air and break through the blinds of the kitchen window, I realize that I've been sitting here in the same position at the table for nearly three hours. I stand up to stretch, and notice my leg is asleep, ironically. At least some part of me is sleeping. This is day number four of my insomnia. My mind has even turned off it's cruise-contol mode. Paranoia is a close friend of mine when I get this way. I never exactly sleep, but I can stare at the same chip of paint on the ceiling or the same crack in the plaster wall for hours without even seeming to blink. One minute my mind is racing, and the next I have this horrible buzzing noise in my ears. Sometimes the noise is that of a fly across the room, and sometimes it comes in swarms. Right now, it's swarms. It's impossible to sleep when you're not here to keep the demons away. If I go to sleep, they will find me, as they always do. If I stay awake much longer, you will come to me, as you always do. They say that your heart quit beating that night, but I know the truth. A bird, a wren, flew by my window the minute the car crashed, and he said you were fine. Why would he lie to me? People just don't understand that you still come to see me. Maybe it's because they're afraid of what they can't see. I can still see your brown eyes, honey hued, with amber highlights. Hair the color of a mochina latte, with a little extra foam thrown in for good measure. Lips in a pucker, with your lower lip drawn in by tobacco stained teeth, as if you're deep in thought. The coffee's getting cold and the toast is stale. You've never been this late before. Have you forgotten me, as everyone else seems to have forgotten you? Please hurry. I'm still waiting. A little thing like death can't keep us apart. You're my secret in the kitchen, the one that keeps the demons at bay. I depend on you. Why won't you come to me? I guess I'll just warm up the coffee and wait. |