the window

i wake in my clothes, a simple blanket pulled over me. the laptop open to my face

there is no alarm going off. only a sliding door with open curtains

my reflection looks at me and wonders

thoughts begin to form

but not before I take my socks off and walk to the kitchen

unzipping and leaving my over shirt on the floor in a puddle

I grind the coffee, fill the machine with water, and press power

and fill the water pitcher while I wait

I look up and see my reflection in the dark kitchen window

I see the lines around my eyes and realize the pitcher is overflowing

the coffee is nearly ready. I pour some into a cup but it's only hot water

I do it again, but remember to put the coffee grounds in this time

and look at my face again

an older one that I remember going to sleep with

what are these creatures

that our decisions turn us into

what name do we give them

if not our name at birth

strayed, from the values of who we were

clawing to get back to where we were

so that we can move forward

without the pain of our past

that visited upon

that visited upon others

grown, slightly broken, even stronger people we become

but in the early morning light of the kitchen

with the lights still out

we stare into a half decent reflection

of an older face

not wondering where time has gone

because we see it looking back