Mental Health
Held Awake
I stare at the ceiling. I click my feet. My eyes burn. My mind races. My subconscious wakes me in the middle of the night— no distractions, nothing to focus on but myself. I need sleep, I repeat. Please let me sleep, I say internally. My pleas are in vain. So I write. I work on my digital art. My son is asleep, his arms and legs wrapped around me lovingly. Moving is not an option. My stomach gurgles. I find a granola bar in the nightstand— thankfully. I’ve learned how to eat lying down. I’ll take care of the crumbs when morning comes. I need to use the restroom, but my son has migrated, now using my bladder as a pillow, the way he did when he was baking. If he wakes, neither of us will sleep. I stare at the ceiling. My eyes burn. My feet click. No sleep again tonight. ☾⋆｡°✩🦇✩°｡⋆☽
By Alicia Melnick 10 months ago in Poets
