Foreign Concept

Sleep has become a foreign concept.
I listen to the clock tick as I lay awake.
Your image is engraven in my mind.
When I close my eyes I see you, your dancing blue eyes and smile that made me forget to breath.
My thoughts are consumed with things you’ve said and done, with things I wish you would say and do.
Dreaming about you only makes the heartache deepen.
Instead I write about how I try not to think of you.
(Grand Idea, it’s really helping. Not.)
I write about how I’ll eventually get over you.
(Capital plan, write it all down. When I write I think. Thinking is dangerous.)
Get it all out on paper; keep it out of my mind.
Someday when I’m really over you I’ll come back and read this, laugh about how pathetic I was.
For now I close my eyes, your face is there.
Do you see me when you sleep?
(Of course not)
I push your image away, try to forget about you.
It’ll work for a while.
Long enough for me to fall into the bliss of dreamland where hurt and disappointment do not exist.
Until tomorrow night, when it all happens again.