Parched
when all you want
is to drink in that
noise
between her parted lips
smell the sun that’s
imprinted down her neck
speaking of the journey
across the purple-white
cosmos
there’s nothing else
that will do
3 thoughts on "Parched"
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She’s probably feelin the same way. Lovely poem, thanks.
Beautiful!
This is superb. That last line is perfect.