I squint my eyes
at the harsh light
of eleven forty-five
on a weekday,
collect my strewn limbs
from the four corners
of the bed,
and unfurl the sheets
to the new day’s truth:
I played hard to get
but you’re easy to lose.
Once my toes smack
the carpet, I know
there’s no turning back,
curled here
in the noise of noon’s
soon approach,
I tremble, fearing the tears
that no longer flow:
I played hard to get
but you almost let me go.
The wreckage sits heavy
in these bags
under my eyes,
the morning toasted
my cold night’s sweat
to a boiling glow,
I clutch at me, the sheets,
and all there is to hold:
I played hard to get
but you almost closed the door.
The minutes of the day
tick away with regret,
and I wake,
finding more than
the muted sunshine
will show,
Last night we rowed
through storm and flood,
I played hard to get you
but you never played at all.
****
Prompt: Write a morning poem
Poetic Asides Community
****
I was really planning on writing this poem in "the morning" to get the whole vibe going but inspiration doesn't work on demand. This is the longest poem I have written all month and I had to kinda stop myself (because I need to go to bed) because I felt like telling a whole story. Maybe I will flesh this one out after April ends. There are some drafts written here that I would like to develop some more. Let me know your thoughts!
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