Late
Another lonely evening
At the dining room table
My cat’s sprawled on the table
I can’t touch her though—she bites
My coffee’s holding me in place
A sip, a gulp, if I am able
Bitter as bile down my throat
That’s the first thing I’ve felt today
Morning
Again I wake up
And find it isn’t over
Did I go to sleep thinking
It would be some other way?
The sky’s turning pink
Not the blue from yesterday
My eyes don’t quite work yet
I squint; the room is gray
.
I groggily stand
Oh, this is far from over
The weight doesn’t leave my limbs
Until I’m back in bed
When I went to sleep last night,
Did I stop to think
Or just sink away?
Musings
I drain another coffee,
Stare into the mug,
And find it sitting there
Regarding my stare—
A gentle reminder
In the drops that cling to the cylindrical walls
That yet another hour
Has passed
.
Yet another hour
Yet another mug
Yet another onslaught of stares
From those who shouldn’t care
Whether I need to be reminded by a drink’s cooling remainder
That time does
(and always does)
actually pass
