The aftermath

I opened my eyes to
the familiar light through my window,
the acrid, cloying pungency of my old duvet,
the purr of my cats,
the smell of the brand-new brewed coffee
I barely deserved
while my throat opened
to the rough-tasting breathing
of its regular air
and the long-forgotten, dusty tang
of unuttered screams.
Ah, the drawbacks of feeling alive!
O stout, useless, raw resolution!
Just setting a foot out of bed
poses an act of stubborn reaffirmation.

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