The sunlight streaming
Through the open window
Kisses my face good morning
And creeps under my eyelids
My mouth tastes like cotton
And bittersweet regret
I slide off the bed
Out from under the tangled mess
Of blankets and my innocence
A pack of cigarettes and black coffee
Beckon me
I lean over the iron balcony
Over the foreign cobbled street
A cancerstick dangling from my fingers
Wrapped around a delicate mug
His dress shirt flutters around my bare legs
In the morning breeze
Eyes closed, I feel the cigarette slipping
He rolls it coyly around his fingers
And takes a slow drag
Before leaning against the railing beside me
This stranger and I
this was the end of one of my dreams. I'm still not sure how I feel about this poem... And the dream itself.