Minutes have turned into hours,
hours giving in to the daylight
yet I lie here awake.
Sleep and I have become strangers.
In the labyrinth of
warmed blankets,
bedtime stories and lullabies,
my cold bed wins.
Grappling in the dark
I searched for sleep,
found monsters and bones
buried under the bed instead.
How do I rest in this bloodbath?
This mess that glows in the dark
stabs through eye masks
rattles my eardrums
and reeks of fear
over the hints of lavender.
I feel her pity,
the seconds of shut eyes
in moments of the blue hour
but the night gives in
before my slumber picks up.
Morning does not dawn on me
neither does the dusk take it away,
night and day, all the same
only, each rising sun
grows fuzzier.
Sleep and I have parted ways.
I haven’t found her
in the creases of my couch,
in herbal concoctions, and in the weighted blankets.
Sleep and I may have become strangers.
But a stranger I still hope to find
visiting the graves of my demons.
© Madhuvandhi Ravi 2023
