Nights like these
I feel soft, spineless
Lilies growing in my liver
Wingless, tethered to my bed post
Body one with the sheets,
One with the waxen moon
The lonesome crescent
That knows what it’s like to sleep alone,
That knows the phantom ache
Of being dissevered
From its gibbous lover
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
Nights like these
I feel soft, spineless
Lilies growing in my liver
Wingless, tethered to my bed post
Body one with the sheets,
One with the waxen moon
The lonesome crescent
That knows what it’s like to sleep alone,
That knows the phantom ache
Of being dissevered
From its gibbous lover
