You’re the 3:26 a.m. train
slicing through my night
and thighs.
I don’t hear,
but feel it deep.
I resist looking for you.
You’re here, silent,
an urge.
I picture the wild daisies,
pale in the moon
outside my window,
touching slick
where you travel slow.
I take you,
then we sleep.

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bylaelia© 4 comments/ 2910 views/ 0 favorites

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