281003

1am

Indulgent

If I could unpick the day at the seams
Tear that fabric to pieces, stitch it up
As I feel stitched up, I should.

If the enemy came into the room
Used their knife to slash, with but
A shredded boy left behind, they’d be welcome.

Though it could be they or she or he already visited
One night my sleeping guard was down, substituting
Vital organs with another’s, leaving but a shell.

Uncalled for sleep shrouds my mind.
I long for a muse, the real muse, to kiss me.
But she’s nowhere to be found. She’s lying somewhere else

With someone else. Who looks like me
But is not me. Who treasures her in a way
I could once, but can no longer.