Emma Bovary
Bound
Your body is geometry—
lines crossing skin,
pulling taut where flesh yields,
and you wait, silent.
lines crossing skin,
pulling taut where flesh yields,
and you wait, silent.
Between your thighs,
a soft division—
a statement, not a call,
of force and zeal.
a soft division—
a statement, not a call,
of force and zeal.
The ropes whisper:
“Breath.” You hold, and you wait,
for his eyes to find you,
for the doubt to loosen,
or because it is him,
for nothing at all.
“Breath.” You hold, and you wait,
for his eyes to find you,
for the doubt to loosen,
or because it is him,
for nothing at all.
—
Juls Oliva 2022
Juls Oliva 2022