Empty air

each
hung over
head-busting
alarm-filled morning
i wake and snooze
and snooze and snooze some more

then
falling out of bed
onto the floor where
sometimes i snooze some more

before
i scratch and yawn and slippers on
i sit to pee, too lazy to stand
nursing my phone in my hand

no messages today

morning
is a gut wrenching pain
she reminds me
again and again
that i’m alive

my end game hasn’t come as yet.
not yet

i turn my brain on
put my clothes on
sip a coffee or two

i think of you
and your curves
and eyes
and teeth
and hair
and smile
and i sigh

after all,
it was you
leaving me
that makes me
feel like dying
giving up trying
not caring about waking
falling asleep crying

a sad lonely shell of a man

it is raining outside
and big soft raindrops
cling to the window pane
a melee of precipitation
does nothing to fuel my
excitation about the day ahead

i consider
going back to bed
to sleep and dream
of multifarious things with wings

but…

i persevere
with this trite
existence of mine
dance to my
melancholic tune
imagine picnics
with Clair de Lune
by the light of the
silvery moon

today will be like
every other day
the polite nods
the quiet whispers
the offers of nights out
the hints of nights in

today will be like
every other day
the meal for one
the pop of a cork
the smell of a book
the stale empty air

it is still raining.

One thought on “Empty air

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