because they hit like ****** on a friday night.
when my blanket has had enough of reassuring my anxious mind
it's your lovely phantom that hugs me then:
a figment of my pleasant longing
for your hands and the way they hug mine.

sleep with me.
maybe we'll wake up sat on a for-two caddy  
parked across the hanging end of a moonlit prairie.
we'll toss the keys to our locked embrace
until the sun finds us and throws them back.