The morning after

The gift upon reaching your bed,
The pillow caressing your head,
The thermostat, how you want it set
Oh, the places you’ll go once you’ve slept and dreamt;
But I warn you of the look you send yourself the morning after, all unkempt, hair of head and wretched breath;
The morning after the assault of your bed, which has scarred your cheek
Luckily the mirror doesn’t play for keeps.