Sunday, April 2, 2017

The Morning After

We all have this light oozing from our souls
and the darkness around us stops frightening
the butterflies and birds dancing around
inside of this flesh-covered bone of mine.

Now listen to me, Darling, there's nothing
wrong with me here, I'm not writing about
the emptiness or sorrow 'cause I need you
to find and send help for what's left of me -

Oh, no, I've learned from mistakes like that,
no, I'm writing this way because I let the
beers and sickly sweet martinis settle in
alongside the words in my veins. Which

normally, wouldn't be much of a problem,
except for the fact this time I couldn't find
the stars when it happened, I wasn't able to
behold the wonder and beauty of the sky -

and I think that's what's got me so thrown off
right now, Baby. I'm covered in pinpricks
instead of molds and stencils, so the light
I'm looking for, is coming out all the wrong places.

Nothing's wrong with me, Baby, really it's not,
I'm just starting to find darkness really quite hot. 

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