Your gaze holds me
steady to a story I’ve
slipped free of like
a snake from its jacket.

I flirt with myself on the
video calls we take at
midnight. Your laugh procures
the silverfish clinging to
cracks in the ceiling.

Darling, won’t you come over?.

Doll Face, you say,
I’ve painted you as a lamb.

It’s enchanting
to be this feminine.
Brushed by bronze,
sateen robes, and fluffy
slippers. You won’t
hear me as I walk out
the door.

I am a whisper
through feathers.
The silverfish wrinkle,
disappear in the slits.

One day,
the romantic comedy
will permit me to say
what I feel.

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