Archived: at last, sleep by Carolyn Hasty

you’ve hung your clothes on the line
clipping each cloth gently with a clothespin
praying it doesn’t rain
knowing it doesn’t matter anyways
the kitchen sits empty
darkness resting in every corner
the smell of damp wood and coffee lingering in the air
the loneliness oozing out of every inch of your being
a sound of rustling leaves and a frog croaking in the distance
the only life for miles
despite the fire burning in the corner
there’s a chill that just won’t leave
nimble fingers undress yourself
nervous eyes refusing to meet your reflection in the mirror
a sniffle, a drop of water
you start to hear it rain
bedsheets that greet your tired body in a cold embrace
every day feels like you’re sitting in a room full of people you love
and you still can’t shake the feeling of being alone
like you’ll always be alone
the chill inside you grows
you know the darkness won’t last forever
the sun will rise again
just like it has every day since the beginning
but nights feel so much longer for those who don’t feel like they belong anywhere
the rain continues
your skirt hanging just outside your window is the last thought on your mind
‘tomorrow will be better’ you hope
at last, sleep