First Morning
You'd try to understand why the phone won't ring anymore
But you already know why
Trying to make sense of the empty space by your bed
Or figuring why your mornings are so cold
Are just futile wastes of time
Because you know you're alone.
The first time in how many days, weeks
You notice the clouds instead of the sun
And the cobwebs instead of anything else
Waking up and knowing that there's no one
Out there that actually cares.
Not that someone did before
Not that there was someone you thought of too.
(At least that's what you say now)
And trying to get ready to face a day
Knowing what struggles you face, experiences you live through
Will go unheard when you get back to this place called home

And how will the meals taste when you're all alone
That better half of yours lying on someone else's stone
Can you eat the same meals you ate before
Will that song on the radio bring anymore laughter or joy?
Just how is it that your life can be so touched
By the fingerprints of many others, or just one, enough to push
Your life into certain ways you may not even
Know you could do, have done, understand, wanted, but loved.
Just how close to painful will living out these days be
Knowing you had that damn thing called love
But lost it like you lost a key?
Your precious heart, thrown back so harshly to you,
Beating so carefully, so scared,
How can you possibly let your heart go through this anymore?
And oh your mind, in its infinite ways,
Believed so much in those magical days, where both of you
Lived together, loved together, would go through anything together
Lives set in stone, found a match and made a pair
Now your mind's gone ka-put. Now everything is in the air.
There are your thoughts lying on the floor, these are your hopes scattered out the door.
Love's gone, and your mind promises this will never happen again.
Bold promises that you'll never be hurt this deep again.
No one will ever hold a knife this close to your body
No one will stab you when your most vulnerable again.
Promises made on that cold first morning, when you know all you have to look forward to is meeting up with your bed again.

But promises like hearts are made to be broken
You may say you'll be alone forever, but no one knows forever anyway
There'll be other days later on that'll be much warmer than these mornings so cold
You'll see the sun again, and forget the cobwebs in your room
If you'll only believe (not me, not these words, not anyone else)
In the fact that being happy is solely up to you, and when your soul is ready, it will let you be happy again.

by Don Bernal

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