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many a night
when sleep is fickle and elusive
i turn (gently, of course)
one shoulder
one hip, smoothing covers just so,
my heartbeat simple and sure
accompanied by an ensemble
of many-pitched respirations.
many a night
the quiet hours
the dark hours
become lonely hours
beget angry hours, and
i must make peace with my child-self,
demand that she retires, petulant
and glassy eyed,
sinking back into her night ship,
willing the lulling waves
to return.
there are nights
(thankful few)
when my heart leaps with a visceral jolt, all
jangled chest and panting breath
my frightened frame folding
upward, swiftly, the taut snap
of a closing penknife.
these moments of chaos,
of fear, (thankful few)
threaten the
quiet
the dark
the lonely
the night-time calm, and must be forced,
pushed into the choppy, frothing sea
the midnight depths
while i remain abed
awake or a-slumber, real
and realized.

by Melissa Kro.

via Daily Prompt: Jolt

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