Dripping

 

August 3, 2014

 

Beads of morning rainís residue

Lingers on the lips of pedals

Of meadow roses
like tears cried from

And overnight storm

I only dreamed about

The aftermath of a shaken world

I feel as I stroll

This meadow path

Air heavy over me

And inside of me

My thirst barely quenched

From sipping these lingering leaves,

The pink pedals spread

To expose their yellow insides

While all around

Green and purple thistles

Make it impossible to touch

Each kiss I attempt

Bringing blood to my lips

Not bliss as I slip

Through the tips of leaves

To linger and look at

Those pink pedals

But not to touch,

Blisters of thirst on my lips

Instead of a kiss

As those pink flowers

Drip, drip, drip.

 

 


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