You held on
Like you wanted to make the boy
A part of your flesh
Juvenile lines
And nothings moaned
Like interest loaned
A back arched
Like it was a bridge
To where I hid
You demanded I write
To reduce you to twenty four lines
Nothing rhymes with Myra
Nothing does
And you thought
I was afraid to say your name
I wrote your name on paper
And smelt it to remember
How you smelt
You smelt like….well
Remember that Kid Rock song you sang?
Here Myra
Here’s your essence
Reduced to
Twenty four lines
You sold your soul
For twenty four lines on paper?
1 comment:
you are from a nasty place parab. you are scary. and this is one of your finest.
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