Sunday morning,
and the sun is peaking through the blinds
after a long sleepless night.
The monster that hung over my head all night
is sticking around for the light, it seems,
and it is scaring my Pothos'.
As they wilt,
I am changing the song that's playing,
It's too haunting, too obvious.
An old friend, this specter has become.
I laugh as he spills my coffee.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
Sunday morning,
and the sun is peaking through the blinds
after a long sleepless night.
The monster that hung over my head all night
is sticking around for the light, it seems,
and it is scaring my Pothos'.
As they wilt,
I am changing the song that's playing,
It's too haunting, too obvious.
An old friend, this specter has become.
I laugh as he spills my coffee.
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