Saint Insatiable

She was a prism through which to see a conjured conduit through which to feel It may just be oxytocin doing the talking but I'm dizzied by the motion—haunting, calling Ahh Or maybe it's magnetism acting on me The metals in my bloodstream—pushing, pulling Such an illustrated woman, ever better Yeah, Saint Insatiable beams—fettered never She grew out of me I'm out of the way How can love stay? How can it leave? How can love leave? How can it stay? We swept ourselves under the rug slept under it, all safe no sound The girls inside us calling us out for faking out the friends we found