Day breaks upon your expectant face, and the birds sing for you.
A cup of coffee and a table set.
Sunrises, newspapers, the melody of your voice.
I’m lost without your light.
Shadow, little, shy.
They tell me to keep going. Chin up, grow up but I still feel small.
Morning is not as bright. The bird’s song is hollow.
What is coffee if you’re not making it?
Little, shy. Goodbye.
—
And just like that, 4 years pass by?
Rosy, golden haze breaks through the greige. Dark, lifeless sky.
I miss the sun on my pale, blue eyes.
The sun on my face? A vampire’s disgrace!
Winter is finally getting to me.
The wind has whipped, into the ether
and clouds slip, like a blip, and slide away into gray nothing monotone before I can comprehend.
I dream of snow. I dream of the sun. The crunch of cool.
November rain, December shadows, January freeze, this nightmare will not end.
One Rabbit Riot 