Drying round a neck thicker than my leg.
You’ve become quite the animal,
talons quailing from the softness of my skin
Waking to the sound of your borrowed name,
my vomit is winking beside me, gleaming.
I sit up and you do not admire my shoulder blades,
You sleep. A corpse if not for the golden hair
that shines from your head involuntarily.
Your body is dead weight.
You can’t hear me mumble how badly I want you
so I wink back at my bile and stand up.
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