Blame it on the Full Moon

Fuck it, I blame the full moon.
Old feelings bubble up like heartburn
Leaving a sour taste in my mouth
Mixed with stale ashtray butts
And redbull.

I sit on my bed half dressed
Unable to make sense of myself
With a dress and heels laid out
That feel like a bandaid
To a limb blown off my body.

The cloud of smoke
Curls around me like cheap perfume,
Leaving me lightheaded
And discombobulated,
Still aching for one hit of something
I know will ruin me.

Cardinals have been dancing about,
Darting into my view
Out on a sunny day.
I can feel their wings batting about
In my head
As if to reorganize the papers scattered
In this head case
Of disarray.

With a heavy sigh,
I put on my lotion,
And begin to choose makeup looks
For the night ahead.
Fuck it, I blame the full moon.