Cheap Room

 

Cheap Room
Neon buzzes red through cracked blinds,
flat whiskey sweats in the dresser drawer,
unsent letters curling like dead leaves.You step in —
diner grease & vanilla perfume,
chipped cherry nails, heels clatter on thin carpet.Stay till morning
don’t ask me to change
hold my cold, trembling hands like they’re nothing.You see every wreck I’m trying to bury
and still press your warm thumb along my jaw,
still touch my face.You talk sea air and salt windows.
I laugh — ash on my tongue —
call it a pretty lie.
You whisper:
“It’s real when we dream it together.”Kiss tastes like salt & stale fear,
room key cold on the nightstand,
ashtray spilling yesterday’s smoke.I’m a slow goodbye in this sagging bed,
counting sins like beads on rough skin.
You trace each scar with slow fingertips,
lay your heartbeat against my ribs.And still
you curl into my chest,
hair brushing my throat,
breath warm and uneven —
you still touch my face.