Breakup poem in the morning

by Abner Dormiendo

At any point right now in some part of this world
are couples sleeping together. That much is true.
But I don’t want to be impolite to you, you
who are now strapping your heels silently
as to not disturb my feigning of sleep—
isn’t it obvious? In a way, I don’t want you
to go yet, but instead, I am dreaming
statistics and time zones, mind zooming
with the rotation of the earth, catching lovers
nuzzled in covers, bundle of arms and flesh
brushing off the slow arrival of sunlight,
because there’s a reason why morning
rhymes with mourning, because the sun
is a lighted candle on the death of love,
the passing kind, which is to say the wrong kind;
the kind which stays is the one that keeps us
strapped to our beds long after night passes,
and that could have been us if you wanted.
That could have been us.


Day 6 of NaPoWriMo: Write an aubade, which is a morning poem. I am only catching up now.