Mornings begin with bravado: blatant and defiant
(merely cynicism in disguise)

My voice chirrups with songs on the radio
while words prod a brand upon my heart

Soon daily rhythms numb the angst of midday,

and the bright noon sun makes me mellow as a daisy

and pliable
What is it about a quiet car ride that gives early evening the final verdict?

Night stay turned and earth be still.
What else do I need but you?

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