Who You Share Your Mornings With

as steam rises in white curls

like fog greeting shore, a subtle moment stilled,

calming voices unimportant, unneeded, uninvited.

in this silent hour i can be myself.

i don’t have to be anyone else.

here with my history on my shoulder 

and beliefs stuffed like a lover’s note in my back pocket.

a slow fire of dawn sneaks-in through words. 

rising behind my eyes, 

beholding unseen secrets even the world keeps,

shining as a spider’s web on a frosty morning 

as touching seams gleam and reveal

a secret shared in love.

what we share

when we really share

is the most important thing about us.

with friends, enmity becomes transparency: 

in a world of made-up faces, 

faux-embraces, 

where voices curl like irons,

and looks can shatter like vases; 

it matters more than anything else

who you share your mornings with.