The heart melts every morning

Solidifies during the day, runs again

in blood down the face at night.

Is this how its always going to be

Me melting down a little bit each day?

Me losing a little bit of myself

Till I disappear altogether away?

The wind absorbs the dew kissed blood clots, caresses

The aching limbs, but does not reach within

The feelings intensified, emotions have gone numb

And does not reply to chirping birds anymore. Life runs sick

And dull, no longer sings

Its happy songs nor smiles

Its multicolored smiles. Mornings

I hate mornings. They are the worst.


6 Comments on “Mornings”

  1. I’m up at 6:15am every weekday. Not a fav of mornings either.
    Deep thinking prose. Here. Good writing!

  2. iamjoross says:

    This poem gives me the chills… :) Thanks for dropping by at my blog Definitely ME :) hope you’re doing great :)


  3. Leonargo says:

    I really love this poem, its intensity and emotions. The images of the blood are strong.
    However, in terms of the overall meaning I feel perhaps the subject (you perhaps) should not be afraid to let it go… let yourself go .. and keep writing :)

  4. This is what I hate about aging or sickness…this piece by piece disintegration, as if yesterday’s loss wasn’t enough…here today is another part set sail. We’ve no power in it. All those little white boats bobbing out of reach until we can’t even see them anymore. I hate mournings. Mournings are the worst. Mourning love, life, dreams, and all those sailboats.

    Great poem!

  5. mbwilliams says:

    Not a morning person eh? I’m with you on that! At least you can write (very well) about it! :)

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