from a stool, morning is becoming night

i slumped

when i saw the satisfaction you took in skipping ahead of the sunrise

a surprise

it was ours

the glow

coming up, casting shadows with caution while carefully creating cascading columns, shafts of light to shelter the catatonic owls who squint themselves to sleep

you didn’t want to be there

alone and unaware of the depth my breath would have to travel in an effort to calm my loss

the losing of someone who celebrated our awakening

you see,

i need you

and it’s a lie they feed you that we’re suppose to find this thing by ourselves

that somehow strength is found in stretching our arms and eyes without you to spy so i can surpass the butterflies that crawl and flutter through bellyaching nights to an understanding of this thing

this life

this temptation to answer the question we’re born with

the exercise of pushing limits in search of hoping, accidentally, without hurting

we can find the truth

come back

3 thoughts on “from a stool, morning is becoming night

    • Thank you for reading – and – sharing your thoughts. Beauty seems to be wrapped in all things – your comment perfectly captures most of the art i enjoy, recognizing the glare of
      attraction from gloom. Maybe not gloom, that’s a word i’m not all that fond of, now i’m going to get lost in language. Thanks for commenting.

      Liked by 1 person

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