Insomnia

There are days that go graceful,
When none of it matters,
Time ticks on easy,
Illusions stay taped to the walls.
But some nights stretch on endless
And the clocks begin melting;
Fake faces drip down to the floor.

These hours when I miss you,
When I spin in the abyss,
The air is too heavy to breathe.
Each moment rides eternal,
Every word reimagined,
Despair has shredded my dreams.

Yet the day breaks mundanely
And they form all over again.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: None