Mourning Mornings: A Poem For The Hard-To-Get-Out-Of-Bed Days

woman in gray tank top lying on bed

Rays of sunlight slip through black out curtains

It hurts my eyes, but I can’t convince my body to roll over

I pull the blankets up a little farther,

But the searching sun seeks me out again

I squeeze my eyes shut

Blood veins branch off behind luminous lids

After a while, I’m numb to the discomfort

The sun rises, yet still I don’t

The rays slink off my bed and onto the floor

My phone rings.

I don’t touch it.

It goes silent.

It pings.

I have a voicemail.

I know who it is,

It’s my boss.

I’m late for work,

But what happens if I’m later?

What if I just never went back?

What’s the worst that could happen?

I want to get up

I want to earn my paycheck

But the decision is out of my hands

Tomorrows worries are for tomorrow

As sleeps embrace pulls me under again

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