Wednesday, December 20, 2017

siren

whiskey on ice in a crowded room,
I'm eyeing the exits
and wondering

what dark magic is
this magnetism
drawing me,
moth to a flame

a current, electric,
singing too low to be heard,
but I feel it
vibrating in my bones

it's a heart-stopping head rush
when I touch her hand
my heart in my mouth and I'm stumbling
for words

I hear myself telling her
of oceans I've seen in her eyes

I can't run
even if I tried
even if I wanted to

and I swear,
she must be a siren
calling me overboard,
drink her till I drown

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