What happens to a day
that comes too bright?
Does it press against your eyes
like a question you can’t answer?
Does it hum in your skull,
a hard, hot tune
that won’t quiet down?
Maybe it swells
too sharp,
too loud
until shade feels like mercy
and morning feels like a dare.
Or maybe it just waits,
burning at the edges,
asking you again tomorrow
to bear it.
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 11:51 AM UTC
What happens to a day
that comes too bright?
Does it press against your eyes
like a question you can’t answer?
Does it hum in your skull,
a hard, hot tune
that won’t quiet down?
Maybe it swells
too sharp,
too loud
until shade feels like mercy
and morning feels like a dare.
Or maybe it just waits,
burning at the edges,
asking you again tomorrow
to bear it.