Parched Lips
My lips have become
A parched land
From the drought
Of not saying your name
For so long,
Even when my tongue
Brushes over the cracked surface
I feel a familiar ache
To just return to the taste of you
Upon my lips,
But then I remember,
No matter the yearning for you to be the one,
There were empty kisses you left behind,
A trail my lips have tried to erase,
But, parches over instead,
Leaving croaks of syllables in the air.
Author of the Phoenix Letters and the Mist Calling