deepundergroundpoetry.com

In the Garden

In the Garden

Hope it rains
today....

the ground
is dry
to dustiness.

The unbearable heat scorches the dirt
to the roots....

even the silty organics infused
by years
of leaves
and clippings
are no match....

watering
can only
do so much.
Written by runningturtle87
Published
Author's Note
Desire comes in several levels. Once it becomes overwhelming, the exquisite pain of it all becomes its own driving force. The thirst. The hunger. The suffocation of it all.

When only one of them feels that, the intensity is so surrealistic, so unimaginable, it's like being in a burning atmosphere where there is no let up, no end in sight, no sense of endless leaning over the torrent into an abyss of shamelessness. There is nothing lonelier than unrequited love fed mocking embers of ingratitude. This is how trees burn to their roots, dried and preserved as rocks to leave the rings of their struggle in the unrelenting wind.
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