i have been having the insect dreams again: skinny dreams with legs and armor, little horrors sitting on my chest, incising. are you so transfixed? i am pierced beyond tissue, to marrow.
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between the click of the light and the start of the dream.
She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of her life, and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth-- it's she who drives the loudmouths from the hall and clears it for a different celebration
where the one guest is you. In the softness of evening it's you she receives.
You are the partner of her loneliness, the unspeaking center of her monologues. With each disclosure you encompass more and she stretches beyond what limits her, to hold you.
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