Vulnerability is treated like an ick now. I joke instead. Then I want to say it in daylight and my mouth does that stupid freeze.
Tag: nightlife
Drinks, cab, extra pizza, the top I did not need. My maths degree arrives far too late, usually only after the card has already gone.
The performance drops in the back seat. Makeup in the window. Feet wrecked. I replay the exit I missed and still call it fun anyway.
The chase was fun. Then I texted first in daylight and the spark died. Some men only want the me that leaves at dawn anyway.
Times, trains, whose house after. I look organised. I am just frightened of being left in a doorway with nowhere to put this tired face.
I can spot a bad idea in a nice coat. I still say yes. Chemistry feels like proof. It is usually just familiar old trouble.
Bags by the door, uniform waiting, that low familiar dread. Even if the weekend was messy, the Monday reset feels like being marched straight back.
Daytime me budgets and makes plans. Night me wants a mouth on mine and no chat about next week. Lighting does half the actual lying.
Good coat, dead eyes, phone already out. I do it too. The city rewards looking sorted. It never even asks if you even slept tonight.
Nobody believes us, least of all ourselves. Quick ones turn into last trains and a messy little story I will edit at work Monday morning.