the shadows play across the ceiling, and she turns over again
sleep is not close, and she wishes she could say the same about tomorrow
but the morning grows closer, and her sleep is busy elsewhere
will it always be like this? will it ever change? she used to be able to sleep soundlessly
he would pull the covers up, and tuck her in
he would take out his guitar from its big black case, with the red velvet lining
he would sit at the foot of her bed and he would begin to strum
one string at a time, the tune was familiar
"the pillows soft and the bed is warm..."
it was comforting like nothing else
the sounds, the air, the taste, the darkness of the lids of her eyes
even the smell. the smell that she now knows was the effect of the cigarettes.
it was comforting
if only
if only the yelling and the screams she heard escape her fathers mouth hadnt covered that up
if only it hadnt ruined that comfort
it used to be uneven, the difference in him
sometimes he lost control, but he was still her father
but the yelling was starting to outweigh her father
it became him, and there was nothing left of the man who sang her to sleep
the house shook with the slam of the door as he stormed into the night
the tears on her face slowly dried as she took a deep breath and walked into school
in a few short years she lost her childhood, and her father
she turns over towards the wall, maybe sleep will come
she glances at the clock, 12:47
hes still not home
it was only 6 short hours ago that he had left after a fight
it was rare that he came home before she fell asleep, however long that might take
she sighs, and blinks away the tears
she closes her eyes, and as the last tear rolls down her face her breathing becomes more even
she made it through another night
shes asleep