The Morning After

woke up this morning
maybe it was afternoon?
found myself in pieces
with no means of reassembling
at least not yet
the dreams of my slumber still shouting in my ear

i'm barely awake
in my semi-unconscious
too groggy to resist
too tender to touch
fragile

stirs me up inside
the images clearly stamped in my mind
i wish the dreams were sweeter
shifting distortion into rainbows
or delivering good tidings
or awakening some creative gem
but, alas, the images loom and lurk
distracting the morning coffee

who was that girl that i cared for?
simple and elegant
strong and youthful woman
why did she hide our love from the world?
shunning me
shutting me out
only expressing when the world was out of sight
i was her secret
her affair

and i...

i hid our love so terribly
even as she retracted and recoiled
i touched her face and hair so tenderly
without thinking of the barriers
the rest of the world faded away when i did
i could fly with her
i had the power to do everything
it was her gift
it was the power of this connection

all around us were disapproving faces
questions
of which i had no answers