smile at the man when you wake up in his bed

by Rachel Lynch in


I sit back and watch. Nothing left but the mirror, why him and not me. Sometimes it's hard to wake up in the morning; head so full of demons and I don't want to see them anymore. In the midst of all this anger and angst, I am forever alive.

I used to date a boy with beads in his hair. Move from the bed to the window, isn't it so disappointing? To watch your lover move from being a dreamer to a man of mediocrity. Where does all the fire go? I ask myself as I shrink along his side.