lip balm

My lips are dry

and have been for quite awhile.

This drought goes beyond

my body,

even my soul is left parched

by this cruelest and longest

dry season ever.

 

There’s no water for miles;

it’s all sand dunes and desert.

Nothing grows here but cactus:

sharp, spiny, prickly, and selfish.

It keeps all the water for itself.

 

I lick my lips

and dream up fantasies

of a sunrise in a beach,

of a waterfall in some verdant glen,

of heavy rains in a garden at full bloom.

 

I lick my lips to keep it moist.

My tongue brushes against the rough

patches of skin

that resemble my scorched heart.

 

 

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