Head cold
My skin shakes with
promises
of you.
I feel myself slipping,
falling, yet there is nothing
I could do to stop this.
I left my crooked eyeliner on,
staggered into bed
and sat there for an hour
dreaming of warmth.
I wouldn't be surprised to see
My lips turn blue,
I wouldn't dream of lying to you-
And telling you I feel alright
between the sleeping bags,
feet bare, face pink and red,
secrets of the sober spilled,
soiling the new white carpet.
7
5
1