I write so I can breathe. I am constantly evolving, mindless at times, frustrating even perhaps but heck, I wouldn't change the smell of freedom that comes with writing.

Monday, November 27, 2017

words seep into parched soul

how your words seep into my parched soul,
thirsty they have been
blinded brown sandstorms have pricked
until nicks on my skin bled
burned and crusted

soothed I stand in the shower of touches
of longings played upon a lyre
prayed the winds, harsh though they be
to take them,
let fall upon your lips that sing to me
memories of a timeless dance
of stories that clasped our hands
and tore us apart

how your words seep now
into my parched soul