mourning

i lay
listening
to the sounds
of morning

the truck
barely turns
over

the neighbor
sings
as she walks
to her
car

the birds
begin
to call out
for
the sun

my heart
weakly slaps
against the ivory
cage
as my lungs
feel filled
with liquid

i woke at
three
staring at the ceiling
as different
stories
fleshed themselves
out in the darkness

the old truck
sputtering
told me it was
five thirty
as my bladder
told me it
was time to stop
faking like sleep
was coming again

her singing
as she passed
the window
said it was
now six

and my ache
said it was
long past time
to ever satiate

now those
birds
tap at the glass
a gentle reminder
the sun rises
whether or not
i can peel my
unwilling body
from between
the sheets

sputtering
over coffee
wishing for
more of
anything
to counteract
the lack
of substance
buried
deep down inside

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