In this alien world
We hug the warm air for comfort.
Hundreds of secrets slithering from our lips,
Through bed sheets,
making their way to dim skies
and settling as stars;
permanent fixtures of our past,
until sunrise.

In early morning hours,
With heavy lids,
We make mistakes.
Basking in our sweet calamity
as we cautiously pluck heart strings.

But after we wipe the sleep from our eyes,
The night’s intoxication forgotten,
We take our shaky legs back home
And turn to the winds for condolence.