In which the alarm thinks I am sleeping

Written on a night when sleep showed up, but stayed just out of reach.

I go to bed on time now.
At least that’s what the alarm thinks.
Sleep shows up politely, diligently,
but my eyes pretend they didn’t get the memo.

I lie there, missing
an older version of myself.
Not the dramatic kind,
just the one who felt things
without worrying about what background music
would best explain the moment.

They said, look within.
I did.
It’s a bit quiet in there,
So occasionally I step outside,
stealing warmth from songs,
from people,
from strangers who don’t even know my middle name.

Everyone is full of advice.
They give me to-do lists
when I’m just looking for a listener.
Someone who doesn’t interrupt
with solutions in bullet points.
Someone who lets me ramble
and nods.

That’s enough to make me feel heard.
And then maybe,
My eyes will finally
close in calm slumber.

Thank you for listening :)