Hour 2 — The Morning After

Early morning
I sit at the table
Groggy and hungover
from last night’s debauchery

My saintly roommate comes in
He screams “Good Morning!”
His words bounce around in my head
Painfully

I can barely look at him
The daylight blinds my sore eyes
“So, how was last night?” he enquires
I mumble, “The usual, we went around town,
drank at half a dozen places, who cares…”

My friend, a stranger to vices, looks at me
With merry wonder in his eyes, he asks —
“If you’re so miserable, why do you drink? I don’t get it.”

I look at him, the uninitiated simpleton
How would he even begin to understand
The sweet, relentless grip of temptations that call after hours
The soft moonlight’s spell, which brings out the Mr. Hyde in you
The bittersweet irony of living multiple lives

No, I decide, I wouldn’t be able to tell him
That it’s a lie vampyres can’t stand daylight

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