lay me down to sleep.

half awake. half asleep.
staring at the ceiling
stucco sort of texture
geometrics
and the smudges
it's equally fascinating and disconcerting -
how many lives were lived in this space
the good, the bad, the memories created here
in this very same place that i call home
the imprints
"if the walls could talk..."
or make their own history book
and i'm really thankful they don't talk, sometimes
funny the way we hide behind walls
undress
disclose our hearts
minds
souls
facades set aside
behind closed doors
all of these thoughts were so loud
i could barely hear the hum of the ceiling fan
i couldn't get comfortable
i couldn't resolve to get out of bed
so i just let my thoughts weave their webs
of hope
of discouragement
i just stopped talking myself out of things
no need to fake it
and i missed the early days, a little
when you'd coax me to release my worries
like balloons to the sky
and i speak calm to your troubled mind
ok with being present...
happy... content to be here
because beyond a shadow of a doubt;
it's where i'm supposed to be
because sometimes i'm so very uncertain
sometimes...
before falling
sinking
down to sleep.