the chamomile is waiting
it's groggy with sleep
it resembles the liquid
slipping out as you weep

what an unholy hour to fight
the sun isn't even enough
to distract us from the harshness
to call off this entire bluff

why did i wake up today?
why weren't you there?
did i somehow remind you
of your last vivid nightmare?

are we still talking?
what's it about?
i just want to crawl under the sheets again
and never come back out.