Trying Again...After Breakfast

I awoke… Caught within the cleavage—
Of my two pillows.
Covering myself in a once sensual
Button down shirt,
Which recently was deprived of its name—
I leave the room to stumble down the spiral staircase

Feeling a quick rush of pain from my bare feet
As I step to the sound of cracking silver corn chips
I notice the lipstick characters lining the railing—
And the crimson runes that decorate my collar
I can hear her humming to “Train” on the radio 
Reaching the base of the stairs
I glance at her image on the couch,

My mind feels compressed with ideas
My stomach swells with pain
And my legs buckle with indecisiveness
For mind, stomach, legs, and I have been here before 
I see—the sun through her hair
And on her skin
As well as the birth mark on her hip
Her fingertips feel like they are on my cheek
From across the room


She sits thinking, waiting—
For me to say something

   For me to cry
For me to smile
For me to wait with her
For me to make breakfast

I am willing to try again… after breakfast

Brandon C. Lay

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