late night snacks

I lick the face of the night.
Canines sharp as toddlers. Baby teeth not yet cut.


I am searching for a focal point, razor sharp, like headlights weaving through the creaks of a faraway road.


In the interim I swallow masticated memories and write fan fictions on the roof of my mouth.

the refridgerator light flickers.though we dance, it is not what I am looking for.

a broken promise

so easily tangled. sliding between.
my chasteness undone
with swift movements
don't
stop
now