On Saturday nights
I rule the world.
Twisting cigarette smoke
around my little finger,
I drink another shot
and pretend I'm not lonely.
Hello, beautiful.
And then we go dancing.
Make up smudged,
hair messy,
in a mirage of dizzy people,
I fall.
Heartbroken
and not there at all,
I hold strangers hand
and almost cry.
They say
tomorrows are always
better.
On Sunday mornings
I look in the mirror,
make up smudged,
hair messy.
Put myself together,
have coffee and then leave.
I'm too lonely
for it to be fun
Even though you said “Hello, beautiful”.