Crawl

Standard

You crawl into my head, uninvited.
I feel your breath down my neck as you lean in,
Peering over my shoulder as though critiquing my poems,
And then stepping in, fitting like my second skin.

You crawl into my bed, uninvited.
Never in the flesh, nothing but the fickleness of fantasies.
The contusions I conjure in my mind
Would never be entertained as possibilities.

You crawled into me, uninvited.
How did you get so skin, bone marrow deep?
There’s no recollection of inviting you in,
And yet, here, hammocked between heart and ribcage, is where you sleep.

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