2:45am
2:45am Aftermath
She romances black holes
Addicted to the slight thrill
Of the mildly illegal life
Intoxicated
Like tiny, cobalt flames
She inhales the noxious fumes
On the verge of catastrophe;
She’s an aftermath, with the
Guilt in the palm of her hand,
Weight of the world
On her shoulders and the
Stale smell of her
Neighborhood at midnight
She feels the burn
Her latest cigarette drag
8 minutes they say
That's not enough
So she lights another
American spirit aflame
She's nostalgic for the days of
Wide eyes and white skin
Now she's got nothing but
Tried eyes and white smoke
Killing time
She'd rather herself
But there's responsibilities
Promises to keep
Coffee to drink,
Guess that's growing up
She'll climb back through her window
2:45am
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