Tomorrow and I

I lay my head on my pillow to rest.
My eyes gaze at the ceiling,
and catch the dancing shadows
amongst the darkness
that encapsulates me
always.

I begin to think.
Tomorrow comes to see me after I close my eyes,
After the world is absent of me
for just a little while.
But why does it matter to me
whether or not
the sun hits my face
one more time?
Why does it matter to me
whether or not
Tomorrow and I
see each other again?

I search in the darkness for a reason.
I look,
and I look,
and I look.
And I cannot find it.

I close my eyes.
I peer between the floating abstracts
behind my eyelids
for a reason.
And there,
and only there,
do I find a reason.

I wake up each day
to see again
the people that I know
and love.

I remember
A single father
Who tries every day
to give his children
the supportive, loving father
he never had.

I remember
An outcast
Who, for all the abuse he's suffered,
has chosen to be brave,
and risk leaving his heart open
to love.

I remember
A bubly fiancee
Who was once ripped from the man of her dreams
and told she'd never see him again,
but now she stands happily at his side,
and he, with the love of his life.

I remember
A stoic businessman
Who found an unlikely best friend
in a former drug addict,
and now loves him more
than he'd ever learned to love anyone.

My eyes part open.
I wipe the sleep from my eyelids
and stand.
I sip from a mug of coffee,
absorbing the warmth against my palms.
I clench a pen between my teeth.

I begin to think.

I think of
that father,
that outcast,
that fiancee,
that businessman.

I remember the days
I gave them names,
stories,
and breathed life into them
with strokes of ink.

I peer out of my window
and let the sun's rays
dance across my face.

Tomorrow and I
have met again.
But now I realize
I meet with him
each day
to write.
To create.
To give them the stories
they deserve.

I meet with Tomorrow
because if I didn't,
these people I crafted
could not find
their happiness.
And therefore,
I'd've said goodbye
to Tomorrow
without truly being happy.

Happiness finds its way to me
when Tomorrow and I greet one another,
when I breathe in each day's experiences,
and write.

And so I do.

This poem is about: 
Me

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