morning comes

She lay beside me
The auburn sun beams
Upon her blonde hair,
frayed, I search for her name;
within my drunken mind.
I stare at the tattoo
of a crescent moon on her back,
that covers a scar
that I run my hand across,
And feel the deep secrets
she would never tell me.
Even in a deep sleep
she knows that touch,
and grabs my hand
and rubs it across her ribs,
across her breast,
and onto the butterfly
inked upon her chest.
slowly her body turns
towards me, and her eyes
slowly open. Deeply
with the tired gaze
of hope and regret.
She rubs my hand against
A deeper wound,
The entrance.
And stares into my eyes
Showing me her hand.
I kiss her,
I squeeze her.
She sighs and squeezes my hand
We kiss before I slip into slumber

When I awake she is gone.
No note, just a lingering scent
And for a moment
I wonder if she is real.
If anything is real
Is there hope?
Is love real?
Or is love just a long one night stand
That we convince ourselves is something more
Something special
Something real
Is anything real?

Morning comes
And I lie alone
Staring at the ceiling
No less alone
Than I was the night before.
I stretch my arms and my legs
Then run my hand upon my chest
where thick and deep I feel
for the first time the scratches
that burns to the touch.
Her mark, she left
and it burns
upon me as I touch it
I stare into the ceiling.
I am alone.
All alone,
With this scar as the morning sun rises.