Heartache.

Heartbreak.

I’d rather not be awake.

Isn’t it kinder to be muddled?

Easier to be befuddled?

All I want to do is cuddle

But you’re not here.

Anguish.

Languish.

Maybe I can just vanish the

Pain.

Lost in the misty morning rain,

Believing that anyone can feign

Normalcy.

Manic.

Panic.

Sinking like the Titanic

In a morass of self-delusion.

Creating a grand illusion.

Wanting to find a real solution.

Striving for happiness.

Nothing works.

I’m only lying to myself.

Books by Nanette Littlestone:

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