Sleepless Night.

Her body is exhuasted, unaccustomed to this fit of wakefulness.
It is 4 a.m. and she ought to be asleep, but for tonight, sleep has been elusive.
Her mind a wanderer, exploring gardens of paradise and the depths of hell.
She swings between two extremes. A mental torture, this.
Her soul feels strangely empty, after having been filled, like a goblet of wine that runneth over.
How fast she has gone to barren and bare from lush, beautiful and completely full.

Stop, think, sleep.. and stop again.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: