Threshold

When the sun rises, giving birth to a new day,

It dawns on you that nothing has changed.

Unprompted, your face streams tears you refuse to wash away. //

Surprised by the return of your own heartbeat,

How cruel the rhythm of unrelenting pain you keep.

Steady yourself beneath the sheets — rising again no easy feat. //

Placing firm pressure across all ten toes,

Melancholy melodies groan from your bones,

Their wails and whimpers ring out in piercing tones. //

Sleep stains your vision, beckoning your return,

Torment and torture flicker behind your eyelids — burned.

Is this real, or a nightmare you struggle to discern? //

Cross off the day in bold red ink, over before it began.

Days bleed to weeks, bleed to months — then circle back again.

Another calendar stained with a cancelled plan. //

The hum of the coffee machine invites you to warm,

You choose your chipped favourite, settling it in your palm.

So far from tranquil, as obsessive thoughts begin to swarm. //

Your daily soundtrack plays out on the wings of the household fly,

Surround-sound buzzing — as peaceful as a wailing baby’s cry.

You pull back your right hand and watch the little life slip by. //

And without warning, the clock begins to chime, hurtling through the door.

Jolted from your transient slumber, trapped in the moment just before.

You step across the threshold, jaw locked tight with a lifetime of stored war. //

Now comes the battle — you versus you.

You wrap yourself in armour you’ll never undo,

Hoping one day, maybe, hope turns true.