Insomnia

A little angry moon,
not too scarlet, not too pale;
is hovering over my roof
in the breathless night.

The company of soulless wind,
helps me no more,
the pain in my dreams is red
with a hint of charcoal;
it paints me every night
in the shades of venom.

So I seek the closeness
of tiny droplets of rain,
they’re the exquisite
touch of numbness,
I crave before every
sleepless night.

The numbness fades slowly.

Now I count the stars,
at the edge of the dawn
and they count the birds
I have buried in my backyard.

– Zenab Khan