No innocent dream
She’s your guilty pleasure
A raw bloody wound
That just won’t heal over

Is she looking at me?
Does she see my soul?
Folding my pages
Humming her melody

Look how she rifles
Through layers of meaning
She’s cooking our books
The lasts an obscene one

Our recipe’s set
Does she watch us simmer?
Does she see my eyes
When your touches linger?

She cuts through the crust
and picks at our filling.
My metaphors mixed,
I’m losing my reason

Is she looking at me?
Does she see me whole?
Humming her melody
Eating my soul.

All rights reserved – Alicia Fitton 2017