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Worn From The Fight



I am restless,
crawling out of my skin
over furniture.
I listen to the sound of starlight mocking me.

I am hungry and eye men up like meat.
Desperate, hungry, hiding my eyes
from their stares.

I move like an awkward moon setting over
rivers, pulling the tide back to the center of Earth.

I sing for you in the dark night,
and wait for you to come home.



2009-09-10