Just Morning

Tousled hair, reflection's unkempt wisps;
January's sale, strewn underwear
 disheveled. like Tracy Emin's bed.  
Regretted turnstile, of your nights    
lay alone with just your thoughts  
and so much pleasure tinged with guilt.  
Conceited stains, mark the grubby quilt.  
Each lover they set sail    
left you crying, unrepaired.    
 Tempus fugit as they fled  
ignored the gift that you'd prepared.  
Lays the empty tanning tube  
the razor blunt, that shaved your pubes.  
A gift that togetherness achieved.    
Commitments split and night-birds sang  
 discords tune, left you unmanned.  
Written by slipalong
Published | Edited 11th Jan 2021
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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