The sunrise startles her bones to stir,
they grind against her will to get up.
She mourns the moon,
reluctantly tolerates the sun.
Another passive aggressive morning,
another cigarette.
Her thoughts fall through space,
trying to remember a time.
Until her mind hits a wall,
like a wet sponge.
Having to acknowledge,
that there was never a time.
Still, she turns to herself
and gives her a grin.
It'll happen someday
when.