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Tonight I will re-open the book
I only started because of you
Those sordid pages
Sticking to my fingers
With sweat
And sometimes alcohol
Which I’ve poured out in liberal amounts tonight
Though I’ve sworn never to drink alone. 
Tomorrow, perhaps
My body will be a new territory
Uncharted and pristine
But in these dark hours
I will let the dirty words
Crawl up my skin
And imagine they are coming from your mouth
Vulgarities of poetry
To brush away the touch of other lovers
Who can claim warm, distracting flesh
But nothing close to your intelligence. 
My boredom is a sickness of Les Femmes
Which only this immortal prose can cure
For what good is this Beauty
If I cannot tempt you home 
Upon my breast?

© 2016 Anne Yumi Kobori
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