It’s another day which might
as well not have a name.
Each of these expanses of light
compared to the next looks the same.
They’re just a period of hazy
darkness on the way toward night.
And night’s a chance to escape
what I cannot face come the light.
But even abed I see too much, of what
my mind uses to break my heart.
When sleep finally comes, it lasts but
a moment before dawn’s new sadness will start.
And so I move through day and night,
all the same save when an owl might shout Hoo.
Life’s an empty space in which I grope
with no one to hold my hand without you.