Everything made of metal and flesh
Lull them to sleep with her eyelashes against a cheekbone.
The cat crawls and howls against the open window,
the moon swoons beneath the sill, reawakens her in
the deepest darkest hours on the night, the siren-sound
a ring-band, a neglected love poem written on a thin napkin,
her hands are cold. Ideally she would forget everything; everything
made of metal and flesh would evaporate before her long fingernails,
the dark circles under her eyes, she wants to cease,

reinvent the struggle, she thought once she would
rule the world with a harpy voice and lovers heart,
she thought she was okay. The broken drum beat, a
lively breath entrapped, sends her reeling, revealing
herself in stranger corners, she looks down when she
walks, prays no one will notice that she doesn't notice
herself anymore,

she resembles a sputter, or a cough, her bones crack
on impact, she dissolves into afterthought and
metaphor, she can taste the word innocent on her
tongue but she cannot possess it, she is languid,
lackadaisical, she is still learning,

it was so much easier before she made everything so hard.