Hanging Moon

Sometimes I wonder

which would be better:

death or insomnia?


Because I cannot

withstand the in-between.

Cold nights tumbling

in and out of dreams.

Dreams of dying,

dreams of living,

dreams of running

toward a hanging moon;

taking the rope

from around its pale withering neck

and binding my wrists

to the ground.


I want to lie eyes open

or forever shut

to worms, nightmares

and the shadows

which linger;

fingerprint silhouettes

of people I used to know,

of people I used to love.


I’d like to look you

in the eyes and smile

all night,

or never again,

at all.


© Kristiana Reed 2018

Written in response to this week’s Free Thought Thursday – Insomnia. 

2 thoughts on “Hanging Moon

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