Surreal, sleepy tangles
have you ever tried to remember
what your last thought is before you fall asleep?
i’ve heard people say
it’s about your smile.
well, for me, every time
i recollect the winding words that spin the web inside my head,
the last thread to string everything together
is a wonder about whether i exist or not.
sometimes the atoms in my nerves
feel neutral and non-existent.
there’s a small amount of certainty inside of me
by a cooing hum. when did
i become so comfortably numb?
every once in a while, i can feel
a shock of electricity
from a negative charge. maybe i am a selfish machine.
one that poisons its kiss so you’ll
only think of me. it’s so easy being mean.
my thoughts cannot be my own; i can barely
recall how i felt yesterday.
swear to you, i want to be real, but i am just
another imaginary variable
that can be accepted as an answer
because there is no real outcome
for the brain to understand. just like
the color pink: I am a bridge between
red and violet
since no real pigment is there.
just another filler for your lonely flowers.
i worry a lot that this is my last moment of life,
and i am just remembering everything, reliving.
a whole fraction of a second spread out thin
to feel like a lifetime.
my last thought before sleep
may not be
about your smile,
but more about what it stirs up when i feel it.
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Comments about this poem (From the three nights I spent with you by Sammi Ama )
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