Foggy skies lie like a comforting blanket
The one I wrapped myself in at night.
Or an omnipresent, uncomfortable haze.
Like the smoke from your cigarette.
My eyes keep shifting views,
Until my muddled brain can’t handle it.
I’m thinking through your glasses,
Empty, but tequila soaked.
I can’t decide if I miss the sun.
The heat was nice to be sure,
But so many times I was burnt.
My skin charred and red.
You tell me to wear sunscreen.
That way I won’t get hurt,
But no matter how many layers,
The sun keeps marking my skin.
You like the clouds I know.
It’s easier when they hang around.
You hang around like a weight
I wish I were a cloud.
