I’m awoken by the sound of the alarm
My throats dry
My lips are cracked
My temples are throbbing
The rooms dark
As I open my eyes
I hear soft breathing next to me in bed
I check my phone
One call missed
three messages unread
The call from my father
The messages from her
Last nights a blur
The empty bottles around the room explain the fuzz
Truth be told I’ve still got a buzz
Truer truth be told as I take a swig from the half empty bottle I’m still drunk
My concept of self is shaky
What city is this?
Is it Cullowhee or Compton
South beach or Charlotte?
Or some where I’ve never been
Whoever’s in the bed shifts as I stumble out of it
I can’t tell if it’s the lack of light or the liquor
but I can’t describe her features
Maybe it’s neither
Maybe I just don’t care
Either way I open the curtains and flood the room with light
I know the city and her as much as I know myself
The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m on the top floor and still alive