Insomnia
You left the bedroom window open
permission for the night
to enter, to soothe broken
dreams, repair memory’s line-of-sight.
Such a trick will never work for me.
Only defeating the compulsion to pry
into your secret history can cure me
of this cancerous nocturnal jealousy.
If sleep remains my great
ambition, finding myself awake
is ignominious defeat.
This is torture I cannot brake.
You hid slumber’s keys elsewhere
ensuring lasting peace for me is never near.