The 6:30 AM Hunger
Your skin is too far away.
The sunlight peeking through my window
hits my sheets & my sheets alone,
aware of missing our entanglement.
In the morning, I suffer
in inconceivable ways, I am the most
rotten thing before noon.
If I were to have you
taking the shape of my jaw & whispering back to me
your voice against my neck while
my teeth sharpen on your axis
I could make amends with the morning
I could be fed
and that would make me wiser
and my useless windows
would shine in on a more brilliant sight
than me & me alone
oh, I feel it all. I cannot be this hungry forever.
once you are mine I will crawl into mornings
set my alarm and open your mouth
to let the sun in a little
& the blood. oh, the blood
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Angel Rosen (she/her) is a poet, lesbian, friend to all, and sharer of anecdotes. She resides near the Allegheny River and has been writing since childhood. She is passionate about musical theater, The Dresden Dolls, baking, and talking about mental health.
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