Novel indulgence

Burn those books, to fan this flame.
Reaching and groping for a reason.
Oh what lies, between these thighs?
And what lies within.
Voids of sin and saccharine.
Humbly taken from the shelf of life.
Dusted and rusted beyond all sense.
Yet still I thumb the page and pluck each word.
Giving myself over, to a conversation with just me.

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