It's 5:30 in the morning.

 I'm wishing I could find some sleep,

a release from this endless noise and

aimless thoughts rattling inside my brain. 

But every time I lay down my head,

my thoughts scream out, louder 

than any sound that could be physically heard. 
 

Like a crappy pop song 

that you love to hate,

you're stuck in my head 

and the more I try to drown you out,

the deeper you slip into my thoughts. 

Our conversations playing out 

over and over on a loop, 

seeing your reactions to the things I said,

thinking about all the snarky remarks 

I could have made, just to get you to laugh,

and all of the things that we left unsaid.

 

I can't get it out of my head, 

how it feels to talk to you. 

Like I've been sleep walking 

and you have finally opened my eyes. 

You bring me such clarity, 

your perception of me so precise 

that there's no use in trying to hide anything 

or create a false persona-

like I do for everyone else. 

It's a paradoxical unsettling comfort 

to know that I am forced to be 

my most authentic self around you. 
 

But now it's 5:45 and I'm going to try to sleep again;

at least restlessness is better than the nightmares.