Thursday, June 20, 2024

Mirage Oct. 21, 2013

 


 She stumbles through

 a dessert in her own head,

 a landscape seeming

on the surface

to be devoid of life,

 she does not see

the illusion of water

 the way most men might,

 she sees him,

 a mirage that rises up

out of the wavers of heat,

 never getting closer,

 regardless of how far she goes

or how hard,

 a haze in the distance

she knows is him,

 dreaming in the intensity of heat

 of the relief of his arms,

strong muscles around her waist,

musky scent rising from him

as she clings,

 an oasis in the dessert

 of her own creation,

yet a mirage none the less,

a desperate need to drink

 her fill of him,

 even as an hallucination,

 so that she might stumble on,

 one foot after the next,

hoping desperately that

 the next mirage will be real.


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