Sometimes I wake
Feeling wrong
And I know that you were there.

You were there for a moment,
And then you were gone.

Sometimes I wake and can't move.
My limbs feel weak
From swinging
And grasping
At polluted air.
But I cannot squeeze the air strong enough.
And you slip through my fingertips.

Sometimes I wake because
I cannot breathe.
My lungs simply refuse air.
They chose the stillness
Over the pain.
And my delicate face
Is streaked with
Old mascara
Because I was too damn weak
To take it off.