I lie on your pillow, pen in hand,
eyelids betraying the hour.
When moments are longer
and every night paces from now.
it's not a foreign feeling,
this need, this large and often need,
impatient, demanding.
The night longs and cannot feel
of times when it did not.
Those times are dead
as these are most alive.
How exposed!
Naked soul
and you Calm Fisher
touch my fate:
to eat or toss back.
You ate so much there's little left
that does not taste of you!
(2012, Version 2)
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