As you struggle to part with your sheets,
you look up at the ceiling and dance with your thoughts.
Found so many things to do so young.
You push yourself up, stagger across the room
dizzy with the plains and valleys of your moods.
Your dreams are but light-years away.
As you pour yourself a cup of stale coffee,
you wonder if you’ll ever get there.
Ten years, you tell yourself.
Ten years and they’ll see.
Reaching for the stars,
your heart grows weary
from all the NOs and MAYBEs;
from all the lives you’re not living.
while the room keeps spinning.
You’re too high in the clouds
and you yearn to come down,
lest you crash and burn
from coming too close to the sun.
The day just started
and the light shines through the curtains you bought at too cheap a price.
Your dreams come at too steep a price.
Your lonesome self
assuaged by empty kisses each night.
The void filled with far too many
handsome strangers who
wouldn’t give you a second thought —
not after they’ve had their fill of carnal bliss.
Nightmares keep you up,
leave you gasping, aching for air.
as you wash off the night before
from your hair.