the brush off

i’m not a morning person.
i purse my lips, my brain flipping
sleepily through pages of trivial to do lists
while cursing the night for leaving so soon
morning sits quietly, lonely
not quite meeting my gaze even though
we’re in the same room.
but i’ll love her soon enough.
around lunch time my heart will pick up
the moodiness and push it aside
then i’ll tell her she doesn’t have to hide
anymore, she can come along for the ride
and we’ll sit side by side, i’ll feel wistful
as the last hours of the sunset slide
under the blankets and covers
i sit quietly, lonely
knowing i should love her more
since she raises the sun high in the sky
pouring more time, more days into my cup
but there are just some days
i can’t bother to wake up

One response to the brush off

  1. This is so lovely! The way you started with a simple declarative was a great, effective way to start – the way you give a plain, ordinary statement and then illustrate it with this beautiful, flowery poem. I also liked your use of imagery, for example the metaphor, ‘my brain flipping / sleepily through the pages of trivial to do lists’ – this gave me a great image of a cartoon brain being sat at the breakfast table, like a little old man peeling through the pages of his morning paper. I loved the soft story arc of the narrator shaking off their sleepiness (them, of course, not being a morning person), and slowly starting to embrace the new day – very positive, and beautifully done!

    Great work 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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