weary-eyed girl, nightmare girl, can’t-go-back-to-sleep girl,
slink barefoot through the dark to your bookcase& slowly unwedge me from
your dust-coated, chipped paint shelves.quickly now!—
waste no time undressing me,even if you only intend to spend
a few whirlwind minutes inside of me.carry me over
the threshold of your bedroom—fall backwards onto your bed
with all of me in your hands—take your fingertips
& lightly stroke the length of my spine—imagine the shivers i will cause
as you trace the gold leaf letters there—i’ll practically beg you, plead with you
to crack me wide open.from now on, consider me an overripe pomegranate
grown specifically with your teeth in mind.(i’ve been waiting for this ever since the day you
put me away & forgot about me.)devour me the only want you know how:
suckle at my words then spit out the attar.i promise to exhaust you to the point where
you won’t know where you are when you wake again,& after this is over, you’ll find you won’t be able to
imagine falling asleep without my help,& you’ll come crawling on hands & knees
to beg me for a sequel.— a book and its girl // amanda lovelace