bored
and yet you are alseep
I'd write you a poem if you'd just wake
but alas you head finds solace on a warming pillow
Id call it bored so you
could shrug off the intent without worry
but i called you cause i thought of you first
how does that feel
that my mind traverses your memory
before that of any other woman
no
person
but its called bored.
cause there is no more in the bottle for me
and the fire from the smoke melts my fingers
and you would rather me not think of you
sometimes i'm bored
and i cant help myself