I woke up next to an ash tray, and an empty bottle of cheap champagne.
I can't help thinking I've been here before.
Not in this exact motel, just in this moment.
I know this stale smell, I remember the same bright sun at 9:30 in the morning.
I recall this hole being in the same spot.
It was where it had always been.
In my head.
I try to fill it with your sweet talk and the touch of your wandering hands, and for a while it works.
Until I wake up the next morning alone again, sleeping with nothing but wrinkles in the sheets.
I can never remember your face in the morning.
You might as well have been the ash tray and cheap champagne.