booty calls

i love when you text me
late at night
cause i know what i’ll be

i love that there’s no connection
between you and me

we both know what this is
i feel like a rebel
in the midst of obedient earth angels

an anarchist
in a society chained to the rules
attached to what they’re told

like a newborn and it’s first bottle

inability to deviate
inability to question

so call me at 3 in the morning
when I’m in bed mourning
over the lost soul of mine
through the physical numbness I’m used for
with you in between or sheets
or above
either way

call me at 4 in the morning
after the girl you truly want
refuses to be with you
she walked away from you
at the bar, when you both drank too much

so you call me
to slightly fulfill that part of you
knowing
we both wake up the next day
feeling the same way
we did before
nothing
neither moving forward nor backward
neither helping, nor damaging

call me at 5 in the morning

i’m here.

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