Fly At The Foot Of The Bed

She lays down in bed, her purple comforter
covered in jagged red lines.
It swallows her up like the dark
slowly eats the horizon.
She touches herself
bringing up memories in her mind
of past flings.
They appear rapidly with the movement
of her fingers.
The life guard at the beach when she
was sixteen.
The drummer from that bar back
when she was in undergrad.
The older girl from her internship
that led her by the hand
to her office during a company party.
She finishes with a burst of light,
and in it was the vague silhouette
of a heart, all the arteries and veins
pulsing along with the rest of her.
She rolls onto her side
and puts her headphones on,
then throws a kick at the fly
buzzing loudly at the foot of the bed.

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