Sleepless Nights

They tell me that the days are getting longer, the weather's getting warmer, and those sleepless nights are not so cold.

I'm spending the late afternoon standing out in the rain, feeling water stream down my face. It's almost impossible to see the puddles among the bricks. The world is bright - shades of gray reflecting shades of white. As I ineffectually wipe the moisture from beneath my eyes, I wonder how it is that the storm beats the sunshine for light.

Haltingly, I proceed home, leaping from dry spot to dry spot, but still constantly getting wet. But even once I've gotten inside, the windows are still open, still waiting for the night.

The rain taps an arhythmic melody, keeping scattered time as the evening progresses, and I tug down the blinds. I snap on my desk lamp, invoking coziness, warmth - everything that cannot be found outside. I do not change my clothes, but shiver as I dry.

When the rain petters out, the last few drops pressing on like a runner's final gasping strides, it's midnight. Sighing, I change clothes, crawl into bed, cut off the light. They tell me that the days are getting longer, the weather's getting warmer, and those sleepless nights are not so cold. They tell me, but I snuggle up to empty air and wonder how you're wasting your warmth tonight.