I'm hoping that the fawn song of my nails on the oddly-stringed guitar is enough to keep you calling my name in your sleep, thinking that there's nothing hopeful enough in the world to keep you remembering my face. Even when I ask you, will you know what it is you're consenting? This is what it means.

I can feel your cheek brush against mine, and when I wrap you up in my arms, I want to keep you safe.
Maybe someday?

hum foreign lullabies and nocturnes,
croon your mind to rest

in a blanket, safe as a second-skin and
without wings

another cold twilight, wrapped
in smoke and liquor

trap the beasts and ghouls
in a tiny jar

paint murals of mermaids,
thick as opals and mud

begin to take what you deserve,
and keep it for our own

Deer. I'm constantly on guard for your sake.

For your spirit, FawnGirl.