deepundergroundpoetry.com
Desolate Desire
My passion
has become a wasteland
the insufferable stale breeze
of separation offers no relief
leaving shriveled remnants
of my once vibrant desire.
Waiting
for the morning
when the sweet dew of your voice
will sustain until such time
the thunderstorm of ecstasy
nourishes my need.
has become a wasteland
the insufferable stale breeze
of separation offers no relief
leaving shriveled remnants
of my once vibrant desire.
Waiting
for the morning
when the sweet dew of your voice
will sustain until such time
the thunderstorm of ecstasy
nourishes my need.
Published 16th May 2014
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