Morning's Aftermath

Sun filters through blinds, a harsh, golden glare,

last night’s whispers hang heavy, laced with despair.

A bottle lies empty, the night’s tales unwind,

thoughts scatter like ashes, too much left behind.

Clothes on the floor, a testament sprawled,

memories collide, as morning crawled.

The remnants of chaos, the echoes of fun,

now fester like secrets beneath the bright sun.

I trace through the wreckage, half-formed and grim,

wishing for solace, but finding the dim.

What once sparked a smile now dulls in the light,

a dance with the dawn, an end to the night.