Shameful Morning
By J.S. Lambert
Not sure
how she got here.
Only know
she needs to leave.
Underneath the stranger
my arm numb,
asleep.
Mouth a desert,
a hundred dead
cigarettes dance,
tongue dry.
tongue dry.
Princess of night,
exposed by light.
Get me out of this,
another dreaded,
morning mess.
Bed broken,
along with my will.
I swore never again,
the lie is half the thrill.
©2010 Shameful Morning
©2010 Shameful Morning
1 comment:
And now the walk of shame...
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