I woke up on the kitchen floor
Lying in a heap
I wipe away sleep

Mornings like these
I’d much rather weep

Linoleum is tiresome
and cold to my cheek

Pitter-patter; I trickle down a windowpane
Clitter-clatter; I’m cleaning out my thoughts again

Why were you so mean to me?
I wanted to be your friend.

Staring at ceiling fans
tracing where my thoughts began

While he rains pots and pans
I try to understand unfinished thoughts that…