Half-light

At the very corner of the bed
lies the crumpled duvet,
warm and inviting.
You reach over and pour coffee all over it,
grinning feverishly,
shaking and shaking the mug to get the last drops out.
I want to crack open your skull
to let the piranhas loose,
they are feeding on you.
You wrap a scarf around your chest,
pulling it tighter and tighter,
the fibres ache.
I wish I could hug your mind.
3 a.m.
I hear you chuckling in the hallway.