There's no sleep for the traveling heart, as the mind is always ticking. Unable to keep steady enough hands, to ever hold another's properly. Her face stays tucked away for nights, when the alcohol brings her to the surface. In my head she's dancing through the streets of a foreign city, the rain falls as her hair curls and sticks together. She's smiling as the mascara runs from her eyelashes, and just as she runs her fingers across her head, she disappears within the mist.