Freshly ground coffee,
love wafts in the morning air.
Is it here to stay?

In
Every
Vase
One
Single
Flower
It
Can be
My
Spring

Cobwebs

Just before
the night claims me,
errant thoughts usually traipse across the landscape of my mind.
There's always
bits and pieces from my conscious day that play out and then there's the bits and pieces that creep and crawl  in
from the cobwebs of my subconscious mind.
God, how these thoughts plague me, harangue me.
And it all twists and turns internally in the twilight of my dreams and I battle through it all.
I fight and I struggle and I break through the surface and I breathe.
And I awake. I stir, I struggle, and then,
and then, I decide
that this day
is another day
that is worthy of my time.

Stitches

How can I weep
for something I have not yet lost?
Perhaps it is because I can feel it slowly, surreptitiously
slipping away from me, and
I do not want to let it go.
I truly am endeavoring
to stitch this tear in my bedraggled heart,
but I am no seamstress.
I do not know how to mend or make amends with myself,
and I really don't know
if I want to.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow will be a better day.
It's such a beautiful sentiment, really,
that I want to repeat it again and again in my mind.  
And I'll listen and hear it anyways-
even when things go crooked-even when my light gets diffracted and when everything goes upside-down.
Tomorrow will be a better day.
I know it.
I believe it.
Tomorrow
will be
a better day.