Obsession

Consumed.

The wave of need
that caresses
and lingers
and envelopes
with its crushing weight
of desire.
Art or
beauty or
work.
Problems or
solutions or
conclusions
that don’t add up
and scream
for reconciliation.

Obsession.

My mind
won’t stop turning you over,
rifling through your words
and touches
and glances.
The moment
you reached out,
fingers caged like animals
around strands
of my hair.
Your hot mouth
pressed against me,
all of me.
Like these poems,
raging with obsession,
rolling downhill,
catching speed
and disillusion
along with roiling need.
I boil for you
and the words
can’t contain
the obsession.

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One thought on “Obsession

  1. Pingback: On Quelling Obsessive Thoughts « your bipolar girl

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