She wakes up to the sun’s alarm,
takes a stretch, scratch, and a yawn.
She straps her bra back on.
Before he wakes, she’s gone.

Walking home in last night’s clothes
must be getting old.
But no one wants to sleep alone.
Sometimes Hell can feel like home.

Still in bed
He calls a friend
“God, it happened again.
I know, has got to end.”

His bright heart weakened in the dark.
Though he felt not the slightest spark,
he still pursued the yielding mark.
Fourteen hours, and game restarts.