Curtains

I leave the curtains in our room open so that the first rays of sunlight can burn behind the barrier of sleep, whispering me awake.

I leave the curtains in our room open so the yellowing leaves of fall drifting from the tree across the street remind me of the cyclic, healing pattern of rebirth.

I leave the curtains in our room open so that I can revel in the brushstrokes of sunrise painted across the sky.

I leave the curtains in our room because I can't open them in myself.

I leave the curtains open, hoping that the first light of dawn will begin to thaw the thick layers of moments we would rather forget, days spent shrouded in darkness.

I leave the curtains open.