MIRAGE

November 29, 2002

by Blanche Blacke

My Anzo- Borrego heart
cracked and parched
dry and empty
reached for you like aquamarine
and passion fruit
and cool cool breeze.

Stranded in a desert
days and months and years of dry.
Blinded by your wind
I come round that oasis again
and your lips brush mine
as if to quench my thirst
Again.
I end up choking on your sand
Again
I feel your eyes scorching cold.
burning to my soul.

Never again.
Mirage

Copyright 2002 B.Blacke

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