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Broken Mornings

As usual, I wrote this poem for a monthly challenge. The prompt? Broken Mornings. Digging deep into the recesses of my brain, I thought of the different things that could “break” a morning, and then I built a storyline from there. That’s all poetry is, in my opinion; storylines that are worded intricately enough to elicit emotions from the reader. In this poem, the speaker is mourning the loss of their loved one. They explain why sleeping just isn’t the same to them, and why waking up just doesn’t appeal anymore. I hope you all enjoy!


 

i don’t sleep anymore.

the very notion of waking up without you,

with the morning sun blasted in my face,

and the morning air freezing my toes,

is a notion that i would rather live without.

.

i don’t sleep anymore,

because dreams aren’t meant to be better than reality;

reality isn’t meant to force me back into a tired dream.

my thoughts are filled with nothing but you, you, you,

to the point where any other musing is scorned.

reality is scorned.

.

i don’t sleep anymore.

you were my sleep, my relaxation, my happiness, comfort.

you were what i woke up to;

your smile is what got me out of bed.

but now, whenever i wake,

i’m left with nothing but bleary eyes and cold feet.

i’m left with disappointment, with heartache.

.

i don’t sleep anymore,

because my mornings are broken without you.

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