Insomnia

Many a night has sleep betrayed me
With her absence,
As dreams played on the eyelids.
Fleeting memories of what could be
And yet, did not.

Many a night have shadows danced
On the curtains, creating a mirage
Of what could have transpired,
But did not.

Many a night have I eloped,
Hand in hand with a ghost,
To white sands bathed in moonlight.
And woken up with their salinity
Draining my cheeks.

Forgetfulness seems a virtue
The fortunate are blessed with.
Alone.

Reviews

[Broken.buddy]

It is such a deep poetry that it demands pain and forces the reader to feel it too. I liked the usage of the word bathed when expressing the looks of sands as visible in the moonlight.

Forgetfulness seems a virtue
for all the sadness, life has to offer
remembrance is always a debut
for all the surprises, life has to bother