Sunday mornings we would make breakfast together.
I always burned the bacon a little bit too much for your taste
Or overcooked the eggs
And sometimes we wouldn't eat at all
We'd stay in bed and sleep until one of us had to go

I'd wake up to small strips of light firing through your brightened blinds
And hear you singing somewhere near
And every morning you would sing
And it would wake me from my frozen trance with a warm smile
And sometimes even lull me back to sleep to much more soothing dreams

But one day you stopped singing
And your songs became more and more rare
Beaten into a gentle hum that could only be heard from the same room

And then you stopped humming
You'd get this quiet sadness in your eyes and while I'd try to help
Or alleviate it in anyway I could
It would linger like the ghost of a parent

I'll miss the morning tunes the most I think
But maybe I was right about one thing in all of this
Maybe things are better this way

But darling, do I miss the ******* music from your soul
And I hope one day
You find your song again
And someone
Or some situation
That makes you sing every morning
To greet the sun as warmly as it will you.

Im tired all the ******* time
And i ain't even took a jog
To be quite honest I don't quite know what a jog is
Sounds like a word people use to describe a light hearted enjoyable run
And that sounds terrible
No I'm tired because
I think too ******* much
I don't even have to pick up a single finger
To completely exhaust myself
I wish i could replace my awful thoughts
With a treadmill
Or a ****.
Much better reasons to be exhausted
If you ask me.

Lovely like the meadows,
Rugged like the cliffs;
You took a longing look at me
But then left me behind to drift.

(c) 2020 Indigo Kenna

Open hands.
open eyes.
open ears.

Mindfulness, told me to care.
It didn't let me know how to deal -
how to deal when others don't.

Mother, Father, Brother, and Sister
everyone I've ever known,
how do you deal with the loss of feeling.

How does one cope without
an ear to the ground, an eye out for another,
and hands ready to pull people up out of their stupor.  

Yesterday, my cousin died.
I had no relationship with him
other than when people I know
talked about him going in out and jail.

I contacted all his brothers and sisters,
no one had spoken to him in years
and his overdose was met with a shrug.

He might have been the worst kind of person
and still here I am meeting his end
with confusion and unknowing
for why his life couldn't have been different.