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Eisele Cunningham

Monday Mornings

The Line

I envy a man who knows his worth…
Perhaps it’s because I don’t know my own.

I’ve been boastful, 

I’ve been modest. 

Mid twenties, 

And I still haven’t found the line. 

Not The Same

“I love you…”

You don’t really mean it. 

You say and I reply because it’s something we’re used to- civil.

If I asked you why, you’d have not one reason. 

Or a facile one I am sure.

Like: I just do

Or we have history. 

You’ll end with another rehearsed

“I love you.” 

Sigh…

You truly don’t love anything.

This is not an insecurity 

I just hasn’t sounded the same after you told me you hated me. 

Acknowledgement

I will not acknowledge a word you say,You did the same to me. 

I was disrespected, 

Looked over-

Traded for someone you thought was better. 

Had you something to say

It was crass or plain uncaring. 

Not suggesting my actions are more mature, 

But I’d rather hold my tongue- I am only letting you win if I say anything. 

I will not acknowledge a tear that you capriciously cry… 

You didn’t stick around long enough to drown in what rivers I’d. 

I will not repair one piece of your broken heart… 

I haven’t the tools to repair my very own. 

Color Me

Color me curious, I wondered what was out there. 
A cat maybe dead now, but wasn’t I brave to try.

Color me heartbroken…

I once fell in love.

I’d rather not call myself a fool, but what else fits the pocket-

Color me insane!

For trying life, day after day. 

I’m not completely satisfied, but who is? 

I should be okay…

Color me whatever you have– 

A tenacious black. 

An inspiring White. 

An impactful Red.

Or a captivating blue…

Starting the week

The truth can be just has hurtful as a lie, I find it best to embrace it all and carry on. 

Tomorrow 

Tomorrow comes without cause… 

Yesterday I potted seeds that grew to no success. 

Tomorrow,

Tomorrow

And another tomorrow- if I am so lucky.

Creeps toward me bearing a syllable with much purpose, but bares no promise.

May I stay here, here wrapped in today? 

Where I’ve experienced an exciting hour. 

Tomorrow, 

Tomorrow,

My tomorrow…

No promise can be made.

The Dead…

The dead are good company. 
They don’t judge, 
Nor complain…

Daddy Wasn’t a Saint 

Axel laid in bed waiting for daddy’s late night Roldan Dahl bed-time story. Dahl’s stories were Axel’s favorite. 

And he thought daddy was so great! 

His actions

And vocal changes,

He even left the light on. 

Mommy’s gone to work the night shift. 

Daddy, 

Where did he go? 

Axel runs into his parents room, he did not find him there… Axel then runs down stairs. 

Sweating,

Giggling- nothing’s really funny. 

He sees daddy dozing in a chair. 

Axel says to daddy.

“I’m ready for my story.” 

Scratching out his arms, daddy struggled to lift him.  

Daddy’s scent he did not recognize.  

But daddy read that story and smiled at Axel with glassy eyes. 

Even The Things I don’t Deserve 

I’d be a fool not to take all that you’ve offered; all that you’ve got. 

I want your love, 

Give me Sanctuary…

Your wallet and your watch. 

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