In the Hour I Called

I cave a little in my sleep

Under heel; motion, I am.

Cracked organs of us; the

Motors of we; I can’t help but break

Into my own eyes,

Upon the words you presented.

The corner words of hours; we

Spent, with the remnants; I don’t

Want any pieces of this.

 

To spread to smear

To wake up alone. The chills are

Pressed into each child,

Pressed into misused skin.

The magic in hours

We take; I’m sure you are beautiful

When touched.

 

I showed up at your door.

In the dead of night, I made my way to your bed.

As always, I loved but a shadow

Of you, in the hour I called—I was hungry.

I would but devour every

Inch of you,

If only you allowed.

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