April 5th, I arise with chapped lips
and the babbling of nonsense over the tv's dull hiss.
The events of April 4th align just a little more
than the infatuated roar of the kids across the street.
Though they speak not to me.
They go deeper than my worry,
for a friend of a friend who at a bar last night told me that that they loved me.
But it must have been the Bacardi
that had her hanging off me, and saying things she didnt mean.
Why do her words still haunt me?
April 5th, I arise with chapped lips and the babbling of nonsense over the tv's dull hiss. The events of April 4th align just a little more than the infatuated roar of the kids across the street. Though they speak not to me. They go deeper than my worry, for a friend of a friend who at a bar last night told me that that they loved me. But it must have been the Bacardi that had her hanging off me, and saying things she didnt mean. Why do her words still haunt me?