tagNon-Erotic PoetryMy Witching Hour

My Witching Hour


Frozen at six chimes of the clock.
Feathers turn in my belly,
and fill me full-
making me sick.
The dark tickle of longing-
for you or to forget. My

witching hour-
you wove your spell,
sucked me in and left me open.
Left me open-
left me-
walking these midnight halls
where your laugh echoes and your sighs
burn my ears. Wanting

to sleep and dream of
something other than you.
Wanting to close my eyes and think
something other than why? And where?
And will you? Wanting

to see gold and your hand reaching
out of tomorrow.
Draw me into dawn and make your
promises true-
or say goodbye . Don't

leave me here where silver
slicks the floors I wander.
And salt crusts the edge
of my stumbling heart as it trips-
waiting for the next chime. Watching

the arms turn so slowly,
so fucking slowly-
facilitating my flagellation.
How long before I leave this
in between? This

space where yesterday and today touch?
How long before the velvet door closes-
by me? By you?
How long before I move forward-
with or without you?
How long before the seventh chime
breaks the bewitchment of
the midnight hour? Please...

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