I have more than I am worth
when you come in three’s .
I sleep like a fish on a hook,
but only on the outside.
Inside, I am writhing with
want,
need,
gripping my thighs on to everything.
It has been one year and a hundred days
since I saw your fingertips
but I keep that to myself.
Time has stolen us longer before.
Remember?
Remember those black days?
Remember cigarette ash stains at the bottom of
beer cans, while a thin man drummed
and you drove us away?
We never went anywhere, but to sleep.
I took the backseat
while you drove off into distance,
into caves.
When I awoke, I found myself alone,
but I found myself,
and you,
came back to me in three.
Your fingertips teasing me while I sleep,
like a fish on a hook.
Outside, but
you are in.
I really really love this piece
🙂 glad you do!
your writing inspires me, i really enjoy it, please keep the beauty flowing
Nice, really nice. “Fish sleeping on a hook”, nice metaphor.
the opening stanza grabs attention with its originality. and i like how “fingertips” is repeated. it’s an interesting narrative.