Ice.

I don't sleep, sometimes.
The teeter-totter all-nighters
Chip away at my facade,
Sweet Fates chip another inch or two off the end of my
Noose.
Glad someone is keeping score, I guess.
In the game of me vs. the night watch.
Cold creeps quiet in all the windows, curves its claws over my gutters and taps a hard heartbeat on my tin roof.
It's everywhere, barely kept just to the floor by all our flapping ministrations.
Ministers of heat, we are:
Cranking here and switching there to keep our envelope of comfort sacred.
A carpet of diamonds entertains me with their glitter,
They're not the real rare kind- the kind with fire and color and life inside- but the flat kind you buy for a girl you didn't really want to spend the rest of your days with anyway.
She knows it too, but nobody looks close enough to see the faux-gem's plain heart.
Not for now, anyway.
For now, I can't wait for dreams to happen.
I recite lines of poetry and draw impossible shapes to lull the spinning in my head.