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Window

de Merce Lemon

I'm not your body anymore
But this crying at your door
I'm not made like that

I've got a calling
I've got a window
Where my cat sits
Where my cat licks my face

The skin is peeling away
Peeling away, peeling away

In the shadows of the morning light
With all the curtains open wide
And across the room a wilting plant
And upon my lap my folded hands

How long can I sit like this?
Been a couple weeks
Since I've moved these hips

Just to touch myself
When I'm alone

Just to fold my hands back up
Just to fold my hands back up
Just to fold my hands back up

And in the wanderings of my nothingness
In a wading through of uncrossed lists
And in the wanderings of my nothingness
In a wading through of uncrossed lists
And in the wanderings of my nothingness
In a wading through of uncrossed lists

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