Her Mourning

The mourning
Day breaks into little pieces
Of repetition
Swept away for every action dismissed
And being done for a reason.

Would multiply headaches
Would quantify
Put the emphasis on gestures missed
Leaving the weight of a legacy on every moment
It was an opportunity to witness beauty
Witness life, in any instance
Met by her presence
And you missed them all

Try, to replay downfalls, to justify
But can only see the sunlight
The image of her, embodying it
Like it came from inside
She was a cause for: daybreak
House of mirrors reflecting her waking
Reminiscing of perfection
In every one of 
Her mornings

Published by Kevin J

I think I write to try to explain moments that I don't truly understand. That's why I have a tendency to be wordy. The closer I am to minimalism, the better off I am. I also do it to keep records of what I was thinking at certain periods of time, so some kind of footsteps are left showing me how I got here. Looking back, it seems inevitable that I am where I am now; couldn't have been anywhere else. I don't have any goals for the future, except for trying to enjoy it. I'm the opposite of most people I know; I no longer want to know what is coming up next. I just want to create the road and ride, or not create it and ride anyway.

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