morning after

The starved day drags itself towards night
through the thick grim mist, laboriously.
Nothing but clouds of Londoners rush past
the lonely window watching as drops
of rain smother everything obscure.
Kettled in a box-room, mocking
laughter echoes through the hallway
from my flatmates rooms.
Photographs on Facebook reflect in
my bleared glasses, a group of them
all posing, all smiling perfectly –
in the darkened room the image
of the golden sandy beach
turns the keyboard green.

Away from this grey room, the grey shadow
lifts from my face like a veil.
The sun gilds blushes on my cheeks.
But the night before still hangs
over my unclean body.

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