same every night
warm laundry tucked under my elbow nook
nearing two in the morning
flicking the lights off one by one
and scurrying each dark filled room
the black following me up the stairs
a bowl filled with clumps of granola
and too much milk that always dribbles a trail down my chin
greedy, hasty mouthfuls as laden, I climb the stairs
this is my bedtime routine
