“Line them up like purple pansies”

I never understood what it meant. You used to say this when you lay asleep in the middle of the night.

I told you about it once and you laughed at me. I never understood what they meant — your laughter and the sentence that seemed to belong in your dreams.

I never told you about it. But I will tell you now.

The first time I heard you speak in your sleep woke me up in a haste. Your voice was clear and cold when you commanded him, her, or them to line them up like purple pansies.

I sat up and watched you sleep; waiting for you to say them again. You never did.

I heard it once more but this time you were probably in a different dream. You whispered that I should line them up like purple pansies. I was bewildered. I allowed myself to smile at your strange sleeping habit.

I moved some hair off your face and whispered back. Yes, love, I will line them up like purple pansies. I got up and turned the lights out.

I must say that I heard them countless times. Each time, was different from the other time. The only thing that remained similar was that I never understood what it meant.

I still don’t but I miss the way you say it.

イサベラ

(C) image

 

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insomniac

My fears are real. They come for me at night — when the world is silent but undead. They sit on the foot of my bed and watch me watch them. Sometimes, they speak in a language that although makes no sense in my head, is clearly the same language my heart uses. 

My fears are real. They do not harm me when they stay with me but they break me in pieces before the sun breaks the stillness of the night. And they carry with them each piece when the moon has had enough watching.

I am fading. My fears are real. My Self, is only the essence of who I am. I am scattered everywhere and is nowhere here at the same time. My fears are real — even more than me.

イサベラ
(c) image