Bored.
splayed before me
i rummage through his corpse
to find a scrap to mend
this void i feel
absorbing lust
to suffice for security
i let the fire rot through
my bones
how jaded i must feel
to imagine you pressed
against me
One thought on "Bored."
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The flow of the poem is like physical entanglement, the way the phrases weave into each other … pressed, as you suggest, into the reader (or lover). Nicely done!
Kevin