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By Laurel Ahlfeld Date: 2009 Apr 06 Comment on this Work [[2009.04.06.23.35.5057]] |
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I woke up on Sunday to Björk, a hangover, And an unfamiliar heat in a strange bed Strands of sunshine pierced the ache With the brightness of late morning light The guilt hung thick and burning in the air Settling itself as an invisible barrier between Two bodies separated enough to acknowledge Even in sleep we knew we had done wrong Stirred into consciousness our eyes never locked But there was no turning back from this The offense had already been committed Evidenced by an empty bottle of red wine The gap closed between, a faked passion Going through the motions, enjoying and not We were hurting you by helping ourselves To another course of what you call "mine" He did everything he was supposed to do He held me, running fingers through my hair Until I made my escape with a thin excuse He walked me out just like he should And I let him give me money for cab fare Even though it made me feel cheaper still Knowing I had to see you within a few hours And somehow never see your friend again |