mornings

Why are mornings the worse? Why do the tears hurt, ripped from the heart. I suppose it's knowing, knowing another day is dawning. Another day without you. I try to pretend. But no one is really interested. Well actually that's strictly not true, there's one or two. To them I'm grateful. They don't try to stop the tears, they like to share their time with you. In random acts I see glimpses of you. Feel your presence convinced it's you. The plunging deflation, the knife being pulled out that's how each morning proceeds. The tears not stopping there. The missing of you.