Walk of Shame

I wake up in a bed that’s not my own,

a stranger snoring softly ’neath the sheets;

my memories of last night now have flown,

        I wake up in a bed that’s not my own,

        and slowly stand up, naked and alone;

        exposed upon the bed is naught but feet.

                I wake up in a bed that’s not my own,

                a stranger snoring softly ’neath the sheets.

A stranger snoring softly ’neath the sheets,

mixed clothing wildly strewn about the floor.

The pulse within my brain a thumping beat;

        a stranger snoring softly ’neath the sheets.

        I ask myself “Who is that? Where’d we meet?

        How quiet can I shut the bathroom door?”

                A stranger snoring softly ’neath the sheets,

                mixed clothing wildly strewn about the floor.

Mixed clothing wildly strewn about the floor,

with wrinkles, stains, bad breath and crazy hair;

my abs are tender; hips a little sore.

        Mixed clothing wildly strewn about the floor,

        a quick escape is what I want, no more;

        I found my phone, the lost socks? I don’t care.

                Mixed clothing wildly strewn about the floor,

                with wrinkles, stains, bad breath and crazy hair.

With wrinkles, stains, bad breath and crazy hair

from waking in a bed that’s not my own.

I faintly recall shots and Truth-or-Dare.

        With wrinkles, stains, bad breath and crazy hair,

        in sunlight blinking, breathing morning air.

        The walk of shame no longer is unknown,

                with wrinkles, stains, bad breath and crazy hair

                from waking in a bed that’s not my own.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein

** a triolet in iambic pentameter