Develop Too

The mornings are fine.
I can wake contently,
perhaps with relief
for the strength to do
one more day. I can push
those dreams into
their space, unheard again.
The mornings are fine.
I drink coffee ardently,
perhaps in search of
a new idea or potential
interpretation,
or an interpretation of
potential.
The evenings are hard,
sitting by that window
looking over and over again
out into the stillness.
It's the silence when
you hear the loudness
of unrequited hopefulness.
The evenings are hard.
I sip bourbon slow,
wondering why
I like the sting. Knowing
myself too much, I try
to reestablish
what I know,
who I know.