the mood of my thought
so similar to my sleepsignals before coffee.
The very cloak of quiet
wrapped around my face
my smile the only glimmer of sun
in a partly cloudy morning
my words clipped like my nails
and folded in my lap.
The pending transaction I have with the sky
should crack me open like honeydew,
the moment feasting upon me like a hungry animal
but you won’t find in me a single tear
not a glimmer of tremor
or a hiccup of “nope”.
This day was always inevitable
the eve of my sure enough to encourage
and urge me straight to the lip of “jump”.