Herewith the morning fogginess,
streaks of pain stirs.
Entwined around your memories,
its thread,
pulled by the sun,
to form surrounding walls.
& I resist them
like the sky refuses the moon,
once the day comes over.
But somehow,
they still thrive like a lotus.
And I try to ignore it
as the morning’s hue for now,
before it grasps me
in its reach
and the castle of your memories
molt over my heart.

-