What does one do but stop and stare,
when the sweetest memory,
of a touch was spent,
in quenching a thirst that was never there.
The curling of the lips,
the clenching of the skin,
the anticipation in the eyes,
a frozen dream.
The conclusion of an encounter,
the prelude to a journey,
a sombre village,
in life's city.
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2 comments:
quenching a thirst that was never there?
Yep. What you get when you never imagined it even existed.
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