After Happy Hour

After happy hour I sit on my couch

It is tiny, barely fits one

But it is comfy, not my body though

 

I have a stomach ache.

Must be a rebellion over there

for all I had consumed. The drinks were of all colors

they gave me a certain hype, a happy feeling

 

I have a headache, must be all the sounds.

There was loud music, or maybe that was me

screaming at the top of my lungs, I was happy an hour

But I don’t recall much, only thing am sure of, is my headache

 

My legs are killing me, I can barely stand

I was wearing six inch heels

and dancing on stripper poles.

am a bit on the heavy weight,

so my legs are practically in sleep mode

 

After happy hour, all I have are memories.

They are good, great in fact, they keep me happy

But there is also pain, like they say, every worthy thing

Comes with some sacrifice, and for my happy hour

I sacrifice my head, stomach, and joints with no regret