To draw the arch of your lips
Would be blasphemy.

Those sad eyes of yours
are tearing me
to pieces.

You wake up to the sunrise.
whose bed is this?

Her back is arched against your chest,
I wonder what her name is

Your face feels burried in her hair
drunk me likes brunettes

Your glasses on her nightstand
please dont wake up before I leave

The door creaking while she sleeps.
I'd hate being her drunk mistake

You wonder the streets to your home.
*I wonder who wakes up in your bed in the morning.