From beneath
The opening
Of my blanket
Morning
Murmurs hello
From behind
My eyelids
Something
Gently whispers
Stay closed
Let the sun
Fumble between
The window slats
Yet not reach
The opening
Of my blanket
Let the sun’s
Legs dance
Across the
Surface of the world
Yet not
The surface
Of my closed eyelids
I’m not ready
for morning
Not in the morning
I’m not ready for sunshine
When the moons
Still stuck in my pupils
About the Creator
T. Licht
I have a love for words and a love to share them.
Enjoy! and thank you for taking the time to read this and maybe if you want subscribe and buy my new poetry book Whispers at Twilight
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
Sweet and well spirited.