The cold morning melts…

The cold morning melts in my coffee.
As I drive out of the square I live in, at an early hour of the day, intense creations mugged me from the mug that’s held by my hand.
Not forgetting my coffee, only too busy to have a sip.
Old specifics crawl back into my world and I’m not ready yet.
I do not want to be ready.
I want new specifics to grow older… I’m not ready for old ones to be renewed.
I’d lie if I said I didn’t want to taste my old gladness.
Only the thing I need is just gladness stripped from what comes before or after it.
Only I’m not definite about it.
Only I know deep down, I’ll be hurt.

Intense creations.
What do I have?
What do I need?
I know of all that accurately and this isn’t a good thing.
What I have is not what I need.
What I need is out of reach, out of my reach.

I feel an 8am sunset.
The cold morning melts in my head.
The cold morning melts in my body.
The intense creations of my own aren’t enough to provide warmth.
I feel cold.