Sleep Through This

Sand from an hour glass bag

Poured to the table and taught to fall in line 

A familiar burn and I know that this feeling is mine

It sits on the back of the throat 

Just enough to steal the idol heart

Dreaming

Half in and half out

Swallowed by whatever the movie 

The ball slips free and chases the shout

“Fuck!” is all that is written 

I’m going to sleep through this

Missing you

Wearing the shirt that you left that fits me like a skirt

It’s thin but it touches me softly
Clings to itself and keeps me from melting

Rides up as I lay down

Like the damned thing is possessed and knows what to do

I’m going to sleep through this

Missing you

Author: The Unamused Muse

You know me better than I do.

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