Vlada Onica's "11 AM" is about the ache of missing someone, and how that ache hits hardest at the start of the day. The speaker wakes up and their first thought goes straight to a person who is now far away. What's striking is that they can't recall the person's touch or smell. What remains is a feeling: how wonderful it was to open their eyes and find that person beside them.
The speaker says they hate mornings, and they repeat it, almost as if they're trying to convince themselves. Yet the hatred seems to be really about loss. The memories are "good days," but they haunt rather than comfort. The mood is quiet and tired. The speaker cries a little, then gets up and returns to a life that is "pretty easy / But complicated," a phrase that suggests nothing is exactly wrong, yet something is missing. The closing line, with its flat admission that every morning feels this way lately, leaves a lingering sadness.