I woke up next to an ash tray, and an empty bottle of cheap champagne.

I can't help thinking I've been here before.

Not in this exact motel, just in this moment.

I know this stale smell, I remember the same bright sun at 9:30 in the morning.

I recall this hole being in the same spot.

It was where it had always been.

In my head.

I try to fill it with your sweet talk and the touch of your wandering hands, and for a while it works.

Until I wake up the next morning alone again, sleeping with nothing but wrinkles in the sheets.

I can never remember your face in the morning.

You might as well have been the ash tray and cheap champagne.