Spanish Lullabies

It’s been a month since my nights have truly been my own. Even when I finally sleep, my rest is abated by blissful ghosts of the past and nightmarish visions of things that haven’t happened yet. Both are equally disturbing. I’m so tired.

Finally – hopefully – my fatigue has gotten the better of my curiosity, gotten the better of the monster that was set loose from his cage. I don’t have the strength anymore.

It occured to me that maybe I couldn’t sleep because I didn’t truly want to let go of today. But a new sun will never rise unless I let the old one set. So I let go, watch it disappear into the ocean. If it never rises again, then so be it. Perhaps one day the sun will warm my face, I’ll embrace it if it does, but I’ll devote no more time towards gazing at the horizon. I’m turning my back on the east.

The Spanish Lullaby. It never had a name before. It wasn’t supposed to mark the end. It was supposed to be an awakening. How quickly things can change. Dethroned, replaced, cast aside, left on shore… broken. It’s the sweetest swan song I can muster. Whether it falls on deaf ears or not is no concern of mine any longer. I’ll sing the song for me. So that I can finally sleep.

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