Mourning/Morning

Not a single tear trailing down your cheek.

Not a ducked head and long eyelashes.

Not a grayscale room, not black and white.

Nothing that beautiful.

Nothing that simple.

 

Silent, shaking sobs lasting deep into the night,

Lamps lit in red and piercing white.

Desperately trying to pull yourself together

Because morning always comes sooner than you think.

 

And then, words.

Words strung together in ways that makes sense,

In ways that feel like fresh sheets and cold water.

Like having a will to survive poured into your mind through your ears.

Learning how to breath on your own,

And then learning how to laugh until you’re breathless.

Every word teaches you how to live.

 

Thank you for giving me something I couldn’t give myself.

Even in the the deepest of the shadows,

You managed to show me the light.

Words, sounds, notes, and harmonies

That I couldn’t reach on my own.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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