Another Morning Without You.

My eyes are raw,
rubbed from crying.
Because again last night,
I caught myself lying.

Lying again,
to my little head.
“No, it can’t be,
my daughter’s not dead.”

I dare not to look over,
or to roll in my slumber.
No bassinet will be there,
still, I hide under covers.

Some songs I may not hear,
a few untouchable possessions.
My head is swimming rather fast,
from my ready-made depression.

I’m standing over the sink,
knuckles white from gripping the sides.
Not one peek into the mirror,
gasping, down I slide.

Just one more morning,
made it through the night.
That leaves me counting down days
to the rest of my life.