julietta

i just had a wonderful conversation with a little girl. she’s three. she told me so with her fingers and thumb. we sat in a coffee shop that smells of rosemary and stories, giggling at each other.

a beautiful, little girl in a blue and white checkered dress, her brown hair pulled tight on top of her head where a frangipani peered through. her smile enormous, her eyes bright.

we played games with no words. and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

now now now

i can’t sleep and it’s hurting my eyes, my queasy stomach, my eyes.

i can’t sleep and my heart’s in a mess, a denseness, commotion, exploding all around me.

let me sleep.
let me dream.
let me go.

play the soft sound of the sea in my ears, rock me into the night with that muffled ringing. that muffled ringing that comes with the silence. louder and louder and louder. until it’s not so silent, anymore. whatever you do, do it quick.

let me sleep. it’s hurting my eyes.