The Morning After (Esto es la mañana después)

She woke up.

There were only weed crumbs on the covers.

A deep indent of where I last laid in the sheets.

I disappear with the night into the sun’s horizon and wait

until we meet again, IF we meet again…

Until then, your cerebellum will remember my shadow,

your curves will still feel my fingertips…

For this night made us more than we are;

the numbness of the night gave way to the warmth of the day,

accepting me this time, but rejecting me as a concept the next.

Glorious sunrise or not we are two and not one.

The mental distance carried over to physical separation

and made it a must that you sit and wonder

not what nor how but simply why…

Confusion and frustration dance in your brain,

your glands water for reasons you cannot fathom,

you wonder if it twas a dream,

a mirage that fell upon you and refuses to be lifted…

No answers have been given,

not what nor how but simply why…

An anger all too familiar has risen again and has begun

creating waves upon waves upon your brow.

They recede and crash, recede and crash in successful succession…

Apesadumbrado para mis intenciones crueles.

You deserve none. Please hold yourself

to a higher regard than anyone else.

Merece a.

So when you wake up there will only be

weed crumbs on the covers,

a deep indent of where I used to lie,

and this is the morning after.


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