Morning

The warm breath of morning barely rustles the curtains
Another day already heavy with burdens
Not known, like stones in my heart
That scratch against each other, sparking
Chain reactions of emotional despair.

Another day to do enough to keep my mind busy
Busy to ward off the inevitable thoughts
That conjure some, any other, life
Away from the moments between the seconds

Clocks are the cruel reminders of never-ending time
Time that used to be filled with yearning for my love
To still my evidence of need
In the ultimate self-inflicted pain, that love is gone
Excised with a cold-blooded knife

The curtains quietly slide back into place on the
Windowsill and I wonder if today is the last day I will rise.