Reeled Emotion

Midnight’s insomniac pull calls to me
it beacons
that I might spend some time alone with it.
Confusion riddled in lines of lace
and symphonies
it’s unsettled in the pit of my stomach.
while not quite right, I can’t fairly
put a finger on it.
Like rum, it makes my chest hurt
a burning hand that reaches upward yet finds no exit.
Love takes up more space than the front page headliner
but doesn’t tie up loose ends like a movie review.
Accuracy like a clenched jaw and tired eyes
replay themselves in clandestine film reels
that wrap footage around my throat.
Hopeless romantic in philharmonic semi-tone
splatters chaos in sporadic symmetry but
fades in comparison to heartbreak cacophony.
Subtle refusal to think outside the box,
so I am runaway.
It’s easier to keep rolling forward
than stopping to
over
think.