Nights Are Harder

Mornings are easy.
I make coffee
fry two eggs
read the news.

Afternoons I read
then I sleep.

Nights are harder.
Twelve hours of darkness
here at the equator.

I drink vodka
and stare at the paintings
until I sleep.

But I always awaken
at 2:30 am
and the memories
swarm my brain like black snakes.

She should have left
10 years ago
when she stopped loving me.
But she didn’t.
I am still paying the price.