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Mornings

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  When I wake to greet a day,
 the morning sun creeping in
  pours light upon my tired face.
 First in line, thoughts of you
  before I’ve touched a toe
 to the floor beyond my bed.

  Loneliness envelops me,
 every fiber of my being
  is crippled by my memories.
 Rapidly getting suppressed,
  feelings being swallowed back,
 I rise to take my steps.

  Simple things that meant nothing
  a challenge they’ve become.
 Coffee is, ironically,
  poetically bittersweet.

  I sit now alone, sipping,
 as sport clips flash across
  a muted television screen.
 Deep in thought on how
  forgetting you may be a choice
 I haven’t the luxury to make.

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