One in a Millennial

My bed has more wrinkles than my face.
It tells me stories of last night's delusional daze.
Your hands, scratching the innermost linings of my beautiful soul.
Couldn't help but notice that your sweat-laden face has a mole.
Your rhythmic moves strum the strings of my heart.
Don't get carried away, this doesn't hint a new start.
Pearls trickle down my face, as you down a glass of water.
Promises are not kept and relationships are made to order.

-NJ