a Sunday sigh

Sunday morning door
closed on the week and
in my face, a death
of something so inanimate
yet touched with my hands and
with my mind for ten months,
if only it had a year of life,
more time more faith more
more… as one door
shuts, another opens but
i’m not ready to be
swayed by cliches because
a dream has bled and died
today, i’d rather study it’s
demise instead of walk on,
live faster and feign closure
when i can’t handle a goodbye
there’s no fast-forwarding
through mourning, no skipping
to a happier time, no breaths
to breathe than those of coping,
nothing to say but sometimes,
dreams, they die