13
"Nightshifts"
sitting in the closet, door
shut, drunk, drowning
a dry–fire of your .40 cal
while I’m sleeping just an
arms–reach away and dreaming
you’re next to me
awakened, my heart stopped
beating completely
black eyes stare wildly
into the emptiness of
your whispering, my pupils
swallow your demons
the possession your tongue
instead of calmly
I began screaming, afraid
baby – what are you doing
in the closet at 3 in the morning
your gun in your lap, please
come to bed
Born and raised in northeastern Ohio,
self-proclaimed Colorado native,
she travels and manuals software
for profit and use of daylight,
hermits and hides within the flickering
of candlelight by night,
writing poetry and thinking too much.
