Thoughts in flight
chasing you down
in the clammy air
of the night.
Black winged,
in memorial dress,
to mourn old times,
while I swallow
every memory
of you.

When I drift off
in the night,
to your buzz,
I won't dread
your bite no more.
And as I rouse
in the morning
with an itch
I won't even scratch.

I'm weaponizing my mind,
beaks and sharp vision,
to devour memories
before they bite.