At last, you whispered to me:
are you busy, are you awake,
alright, goodnight.
But I did not hear the words until I woke
seven hours too late to catch the kiss that you sent me.
She pulled me off of the land and
dragged me with her to her cave below the glass sea.
You called for me love, but I could not.
I could only call “hostage, hostage”
and lately I find myself calling this word out more and more often.
Her accomplice called back
“sleep little miss, sleep” with a wicked smile
so I let me head rest for a minute
an hour,
a day,
a week,
awhile.