Mourning Ritual

Steam swirls
from my morning 
tea

like smoke

from ashes

left to smolder

beneath the surface

Steam spills
from my morning
shower
like mist
from moors
shrouding the horizon
in livid regret

I long 
to rend
the aching
day
from
this
body

but a promise is a promise

so instead
I
 pull on
patched and pressed
sundry needfuls
layer on
a multitude of
gold and glass 
distractions

 pass by all
the open windows

and find my way
out the front door


NaPoWriMo 2019  Day 1