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Morning; mourning the loss of my interest
Driving down back roads; driving over the edge
Too late for the moon, too early for the sun
Stuck inside a bottomless pit of potholes and self pity
Lost in a maze of road signs pointing left
Leading me in circles with my circular arguments
Itching for a way out of my skin; crawling like spiders beneath my eggshell exterior

Alone with my demons, my vomit and my discontent
A triad headed for disaster; watching the time fly past to which I am so inferior
Sop up my insides with a rag to soak in every last drop of my miserable existence
This haunting distance is too close to home and phones don't reach the place you've gone
I would love to see your face once more
Simply for the satisfaction of your eyes connecting with my back
Until the door cannot stand another slam on it's hinges as you cringe at my last stand and fall to the floor
There is but one more straw, so break it wisely as you have broken everything thus far
Like a precious flower that cannot spare another bloom
The sunshine has been gone for too long; you were my morning sun
Now I am in mourning, for my petals wither as our love has become brittle
Yearning for a single drop, a mist, a chance of rain as my tears pour out like a faucet
While you are basking in your misery my pieces break little by little
Until I am swept under the rug into a gauntlet of broken love

Learn more about this author, Cassandra Hilton.
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