You wake me in the morning and it’s always too early,
as though I had only just found sleep and had just chosen
my dream and then – boom! – here you are and there’s the
light coming through the curtains and my dream rolls away
to the edge of the bed where it hesitates just long enough
to tease a glimpse of how it would have played, where it
would have taken me and what lessons I may have gleaned,
and I stretch and try to pull the dream back to me, but it’s
already gone, and so in disappointed resignation, I reach
for you instead and take what slight solace — but mostly
revenge — I can muster as I find the “off” button and
silence your wretched alarm.

NaPoWriMo challenge, Day Six: “Write a poem that stretches your comfort zone with line breaks.”