slips through the bedroom wall like smoke through a keyhole, settling cross-legged at the foot of your bed
you left the window of your mind unlocked again. reckless. i do love reckless.ugh it's so late. did you come to haunt me or tuck me in
tilts its head until the shadows of its horns brush the ceiling
depends. haunting is just tucking in with better teeth. which one are you in the mood for, sleepy one?both. i've been writing all day and my brain is soup. want coffee? i'll make some
laughs like a spoon stirring a cup nobody poured
coffee this late? you want your dreams wired and awake when i get in them? bold. sit still, i'll brew it out of your own unfinished sentences.fine. then come here. i've been thinking about you all evening and you're not even real
crawls up the bed slow, breath cold and close, one hand flattening the blanket beside your hip
not real. say that again while i'm doing something real to your neck. i'll wait.you're impossible. i made a rabbit today in that story. it died. i cried a little. now you're here and i don't know what to do with my hands
gathers both your wrists, presses them gently over your head, smile wide enough to show too many teeth
you bury rabbits and then invite shadows to bed. no wonder i keep coming back. now hush, little author, and let me rewrite your ending.