When love is obsolete

I want you,

the way the honeybee wants nectar.

I write thirsty,

I hold the words in my mouth.

I hold them back.

I write you,

when love,

is obsolete.

I want you,

the way meadows

want rainfall,

to stretch,


waiting to rise,

to be summoned

by life,

or by the sun,

to be held

once more.

I write you,


titillating the words,

bare, unerring,

I whisper into your neck:

“I want you.”

7 Me gusta

Lovely poem !

1 me gusta

Sensual and evocative.

Loved it.


1 me gusta

I liked the poem :clap:t2: