Morning After

Light shines through the window,
dust flies through the beams.
I watch, they swirl throughout the air,
to the sound of music that isn't there,
their freedom - something from my dreams.

You're standing in the kitchen,
I hear the clang of pots and pans,
You're whistling a forgotten song,
the pan on the stove whistles along,
I push off the covers and stand.

Through the door, arms around myself,
The floors are cold, the my feet bare.
Pictures hang on the wall,
Your family, your son and all.
Your girl is beautiful, I stop and stare.

You call to me, questioning.
I peek around the ledge.
You're sitting still,
leaned against the window sill,
balancing on the edge.

"Darling, come down and eat."
I hesitate, you reach for me.
"The food will get cold, if you don't hurry."
Your eyebrows furrow, I see your worry.
"She won't be home till three."

Your hands meet my shoulder, warm and familiar,
Your touch, I begin to shake,
You brush hair from my eyes,
I mask, I disguise,
how much I don't want to be awake.

You see, when I'm dreaming it's easier to lie.
I pretend this isn't who I turned out to be.
In my dreams I am unchained,
free, something no demon can contain.
In my dreams this isn't me.

But there's a mirror on your wall,
and in the reflection I can see,
she has drained skin, smeared eyeliner,
bruises on her neck that people use to define her,
In your reflection I see the mask covering me.

But beneath there is something else,
Truly I love you, and that you'd see.
If you looked underneath you'd see something more.
Instead of an easy, returning whore.
Underneath this facade you'd see the real me.

And something shoots through my mind.
I play it out, my hopeful disaster,
she comes home too early,
I'm still here, and surely,
she'd leave in tears and you'd chase after.

But soon you'd give in, you wouldn't win.
She'd leave you a mess in this disaster,
But you'd lean on me,
together we'd be,
and I'd never have to leave the morning after.