its mornings like this one
that I wonder if I have a problem
slumped over
shaking
a symphony of heaves being shared with the porcelain
waking up next to someone I certainly shouldn't be
broke
and broken
bruised
curious little indications
that the night before
I was yet again out of control

its mornings like this one
I don't know that girl in the mirror
she's crass and careless
unwavering in her "i'm hard" demeanor
empty
with only the faintest of memories
of who she used to be
drowning in the onslaught of bubbling beverages
she does it to herself though
leaving me with the aftermath

its mornings like this one
id like to ****** that reflection
i'm just not that selfish