death, you will not do,|
fitting yourself into fingertips
and old shoes,
stomping on the welcome mat--
but you are not welcome here, dear.
I hate every word you say,
like you are the mountain
and I am the pebble at your base.
don't bother with your speech,
you are just as much rock as I am.
curl yourself into the spaces I sleep,
spooning against my back,
you stop me mid-breath, mid- blink;
the pillow is our stand- in lover
and the sheets
and the blankets.
steals my panties and my smiles,
takes my sleep
and wakes up with me
when I need it to.
© 2010 heyachristina
(All rights reserved)