slow mornings are my favorite
for i can simply stare out the window,
drink coffee,
and think.

whether it be cloudy or sunny,
it's always nice to bask in the low light.

It was his sunset-painted heart,
dulcet-washed eyes, and
his contagious laughter that
makes my mornings
and anxiety-filtered moments
spark little fires
deep inside.

I am invisible,
no one can see me
with a giant mass overhead
blinding vision.
pain.
suffering.
riding into it's direction
grasp on reality begins to fade
the past behind you is forgotten
a lost memory
beams of light take over
becoming skyscrapers and airplanes
sweat falling into the eyes
temperature of skin burning up
her light cuffs you by the throat
dragging you forward to discover unknowns
whether it be the inside of your mind
or the weather around you
I see beads of water jumping upward from grass
tires leaving their signature on concrete
but her light erases every piece of evidence
she flickers a lighter and sets fire
to wet grass from the day before
and to the markings left made from wet tires
is her purpose only to erase?
she erases my mind to think. she erases my vision to see. she erases my comfort I rather lie in than to be in her presence.