by Cloud @ lifeofcloud.net
Morning: my opinion of you is quite torn. While you hold colour and show beauty that differs greatly from other hours of the day, you also whisper into my ear, quietly and confidently, that they need not be seen. It is like you are holding secrets from me and I don’t know whether I even desire to know them.
You exhaust me. Sometimes I wake and greet you and you respond with cold, damp darkness. Morning, that’s not you. Why do you hold onto darkness when you know that belongs to Night? You make me question your intentions; you make me wonder if you are tempting me to continue sleep on purpose, laughing in my weak, tired face.
Why do you do this to me? I want more than anything to get along with you, to embrace you, to love you and jump into you excitedly like I do with Night. But all you do is leave me wanting more sleep and you, more frequently than not, are greeted so as to lead me to tedious affairs. I am so torn. I am so confused that something that holds so much life, vibrancy, promise could also hold so much spite, cruelty, torture.
Morning, I wonder if we will ever get along, if we can ever walk hand in hand with smiles instead of frowns and heavy eyelids. Morning, I wonder if I could ever really love you. You know I want to, but this kind of love will take work on both our parts. Treat me well, Morning, and perhaps I can give you my wide awake heart and soul.