Tastes like melted snow
in the midst of a drought.
A peck would never be enough.
So, forgive me,
When i selfishly try
to gulp the life out of them,
Like a starving wolf
In need of blood,
Like withered grasses
hoping for rain,
A little glaze, here and there.
I will stay forever
in need of their touch.
©baseerah
©ceerah
C