Rachael Lowe


Boredom

When I open my eyes
I examine you.
You are sitting in a chair
propped against the wall.
Swathed in cigarette smoke
you look vaguely like Humphrey Bogart
without the necessary swagger.
I am bored.
I’ll sleep now
where you left me
lying naked on the floor
face down;
filled with your momentary regard.

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