Werewolf
Everything glitters
after dark.
Little by little,
I fell out of love with the sun,
slipping between the black and the white.
I started to appreciate the sound
of music with hot loving.
So good, so giving.
Blood so hot, you barely notice that it's boiling,
until everything's on fire,
everything's moving.
(It hurts so good, it doesn't)
And now,
I can't sleep for the need, it litters
my mind like an infectious disease.
(Though I'd been searching for it)
Little by little,
I caught it,
hands open,
palms burning.
Anything seems bigger
spread by shadows.
Now I think faster,
laugh louder,
love harder,
go quicker.
And when the morning sun litters
the sky,
it's an unwanted savior
to people like us.
(Because we know what's best,
we've seen what's better)
So we rest a little,
hiding strangeness with normalcy,
lust with routine.
But when the sun sets,
I watch with curiosity,
shadows wake and spread
(as if it's the first time)
legs open, arms wide,
inviting me in
to stop pretending
I'm something that I'm not.
Little by little,
I don't need much of anything,
knowing that love
will find me
in unusual ways.
Maybe it already has
but I lost count of ways...
too in love with shadows...
too in love with the night...
Too late.
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