in the morning

It is always in the morning
that you regret last night’s actions.
It is always in the morning
that you try hard not to think of anything.
It is always in the morning
that you hide the evidence.
For the night seduces,
its hunger insatiable.
The night covers the guilt
and the false promise of a longer time.
But as the clock ticks,
the morning always, always comes too soon.

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Where travel and poetry intertwine.

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