of me

i follow your voice to the morning

and i rise with the small hairs

on the crook of your neck.

i stay there

and sit quietly

with your freckles.

they mirror mine

but i don’t think it’s strange..

someone must’ve

pulled us apart

before we were flesh.

– sheila c.

morning personĀ 

you know, I’ve never been a morning person. 

the idea of light streaming through curtains after so much black is daunting.

daylight has always been abrasive, at best. 

most days I lay motionless while my eyes adjust. 

In those little bits of time, I flood myself with motivation. 

normally, I answer a serious of self inflicted questions. 

“What do I live for? 

What is my purpose? 

Why even bother with rising another day?”

it’s the curiosity of those miserable moments that led me to the truths of my existence.  

I realized my personal truth ended up being something altogether selfish and altruistic.. 

I live for love. 

The love of myself, the love of life, the love of people and the world; the whole of it. 

these days when my eyes have finally adjusted and my brain can process sight.. 

I look over to my left and nudge your side.

I smile because when you’re here, 

all it takes is your exasperated sigh 

and I am ready. 

– sc