Morning

I dream a dream of lucid sleep
and wake to white walls, and ceiling.
I am still here.
This is me.
This is my life, and I am alone in it.

I am the only one who knows
the rivers running through my soul,
the gatekeeper to a heart
once or twice beaten down.
Too quickly have I shared the key.
Too quickly cast open the iron
to expose my mortal weakness.
Too quickly I have failed to see the problem.

The Palm tress out my window know I sleep alone,
awaking often in the night
to find nothing has changed.
A thousand angry words screamed in silence in my mind.
Some things are better left unsaid.