Morning crept in.
Slow and silent.
In my chest—the sun.
Breaths calm.
Eyes bright.
I stepped into the light.
Wrapped in linen and ache.
A morning for the mourning.
Rising sun to my thoughts.
The night burned away.
And with it—
the name I wouldn’t speak.
The ache I kept folded
in the corners of my body.
I didn’t weep.
Only breathed.
And let the light fill
what was left.
About the Creator
Shannon E. Mack
Hello, friends and fellow writers! I am a 37-year-old writer diving in for the first time. Working on a literary fantasy romance novel and sharing poetry along the way.
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