I Do Not Sleep

I’m restless, but oh so tired.
I haven’t slept right for far too long.
My body tries to produce tears,
but instead my dry eyes burn.
My heart is heavy and my stomach hurts from falling,
clumsily, desperately, and unaware of-
where I will land or who will catch me.
It doesn't matter now.

I remember those goddamn words,
“I’m so ashamed of you.”
They ring in my ears as if I am still four years old,
crying from the guilt. I felt humiliated.
I experienced my first feeling of regret at the age of four
when I introduced myself to guilt.
I have not been able to rid myself of it,
because we’ve been inseparable since that bittersweet day.
We know eachother so well that its presence comforts me
when I am scared and in unknown places.

On that horrid day,
she took me into her warm arms that served as a band-aid.
I found solace in its flesh-color,
because it helped mask my disturbing wounds.
It helped protect my scrapes of guilt,
but not enough to keep them from
turning into cuts that scar.

I lay my heavy head upon my pillow.
I feel my heart break out of exhaustion
from holding itself together for too long.
It bleeds. I am bleeding. I do not feel any pain.
I do not feel. I do not cry. I do not sleep.