sunrise
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She never slept; morning simply found her standing at the edge of night while the sky bruised itself into gold.
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Morning arrives from the wrong side of insomnia, catching her awake as darkness packs itself away one pale color at a time.
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One glowing window in a sleeping house holds the last confession of a night that still has not learned how to end.
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Before the children wake and the house fills with need, a few quiet minutes become enough room to hear herself again.
Between Bruises & Blooms 