My dreams crash silently like breaking porcelain.

Tight fat and sinew stretch above the milky balls of my eyes,

Reaching for heights they will never gain.

Looking at your face I can tell that the

night was long and hard,

Filled with too many cheap drinks of starlight

And unfiltered, smoky moon beams.

Your mouth twitches in your sleep

And I can’t help but notice the meaty smudge above your cheekbone.

Is it blood or lipstick?

Does it matter?

Let the morning peel away your exhaustion,

Like papery skin of an onion,

That has sat too long and forgotten the layers

Of its memory (or maybe it never knew them to begin with.)

Like the inescapable call of a magnet,

We were drawn together.

Two too tired to win the race,

But set not to lose it.

The only difference between us

Is that I am a morning person and you aren’t.