Scarce, I'm left to hunger
not for food, my soul wonders off
storefront, it admires what it does not know.
The flesh is left, so it is deprived
it awaits too, but time holds nothing
a bouquet of empty promises
These things were not seen in the flesh
unknown. they were not felt within the flesh & scarce is my portion
not of food, we survive as we have learnt to
survive
fasting. thus our senses are heightened
Time's bouquet of thorns
The hunger is felt, & it grows with time
~
(Writer's note: alternative atmosphere...
Daughters by John Mayer)
©ali.faith
A