awake with the cold touching my toes-sticking out of the blanket,
hoping the house is empty,
i am up.
there are some things i instantly look at when i wake:
how worn my desk looks,
my stained floor,
a broken clock set for 9 o' clock,
paintings,
the streetlight,
palm trees,
see if my brushes have hardened,
how many empty cups are lying around,
stacks of books,
dust.
sunlight.
i dread,
hearing footsteps or a television or someone on the phone
knowing there's nothing for breakfast
not having a book to read on the toilet
overbearing heat collected in a room
no one to kiss good morning
someone to kiss good morning
appointments
the first word i probably say,
is an affirmation.
rising is painful
succumb at night to relief
between is the substance
that makes the reality,
something happened-
sometimes my eyes are wet,
before i sleep.
1 comment:
i envy your mornings.
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