At 2pm and 2am. Sleep,
I remember you. Please, wait for me.
I send out 7 reminders to eat a day.
Like little paper lifeboats.
It’s nothing. And it keeps me afloat. I forget to eat too.
I need company for my shot. 3ml of Estradiol over facetime.
I tell my friend I’m being a baby about it, she says woman up.
Daylight savings swallows up the hour in question.
I was going to sit in the bathtub until you responded.
And I need you to keep you alive for me. Just until Thursday.
Just through to 6 am. I can send you 14 dollars for soup. I can lend you
my ears. You’ll need both hands to hold a heart. Your razor clinking against the counter.
In a dream I almost slip into, I reach through the phone and hide the blade
in my open palm, before you notice. Text me, I say. In the morning. I love you.
I need you alive. We can figure out the rest tomorrow. With or without
sleep. With or without the light
of the morning.