blood has been tasted on my lips
and there's coffee on my breath;
the bitter sweetness of love

                                                           ­       will you hold my sweaty palms?

and makeup on the pillow
beckons us back to bed

but I'd rather stay awake
scrawling the ghosts of my thoughts,
under soft glows of fairy lights--
held to cinder-block walls with clear tape

I may need your arms tonight;
help me sleep

                           but what makes tonight any different from another?

I could get along fine--
so long as you can go without
my peppermint lips
to kiss you awake