It was morning

It was morning. It was morning only because there was a message at 6.05am followed by a call. Then there wasn't any. Hence on for six days since, the night, the killing night, has taken over the remnants of day that used to be spared from the mercilessly stifling hours with air that chokes of dead flowers, flowers once sweet, in her seasonal bloom.

.

teh manis saya,
di dalam hatiku,
tak ada sayangnya,
sakit hati saja..

.. does this make sense to anyone other than me?