My friend is home
She returns in the night
Closing the door with no sound
She comes and goes
Giving no notice
Never has she woken me
She is far too polite
Instead she crawls into my bed
And awaits my arousal
When I rise
I seldom notice her presence
Rather I feel her gaze
It grows heavy as the hours pass
Her steps follow behind me
Drawing closer yet with each
There is silence but for her breaths
Reminding me of her company
Mostly she is quiet
Remaining a thought ready to forgotten
Only sometimes does she speak
A shrill sort of sound
A voice so intoxifying
It may bring me to my knees
Coaxing me to accompany her
Rather would I floss with barbed wire
Than to abide by her council
She may guide me astray
Hidden under many a surmise
