EVERY MORNING I TAKE
So I woke up scared.
Mornings are
complicated.
They will always be a
fresh start.
The alarm clock rings.
Our life calls us.
Convictions too.
We have today's
routes. We still have the past.
Will we do everything
the same or differently?
Will it be more of the
same?
Surely questions,
cravings want to arise.
It depends on our
choices.
To have answers.
Will we want everything
big or small?
Sweet or savory?
Fried or grilled?
Hot or warm?
Dead or alive?
Will I make myself
understood or will I confuse others?
What about sex? In the
morning, in the afternoon or at night?
Will I show my gums or
give a tigh-lipped smile?
Will we respect the
rules or will we cheat in the game?
Today I started
another morning.
I hummed karaoke songs
all by myself.
I had my unsweetened
decaffeinated coffee.
A bath on the whim.
I cleaned up the mess in
my office.
I read the papers,
nothing new.
I organized my
commitments in my head.
I slammed the door and
the street was windy.
Only we know the pain
and the happiness that we carry under this blue sky mixed with gray, within the
rebirth of every day.
It was raining a
little, but I was crying; I felt a tightness in my chest.
When the driver asked
me where I was going, I just didn't know where: I had forgotten my diary and
wallet at home.
It was me looking like
a boomting carrying no papier-mache.
I returned home by
foot. I opened the door and lay down on the bed again.
Tomorrow will be a new
start. I swear it will be.
How I do love mornings.
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