I loved you for your
cold exterior, the opaque
fog that shielded your
rough innards from
the world. I wanted to
cut you open, and show
you what this world
could be: a warm haven,
eden open once more.
It would have been a
beautiful sight, seeing
you strong and smooth,
wild as the rushing river
But this love? it was
worse than praying
for rain in the Sahara,
worse than hoping for
sun in the arctic winter.
I could wait millenia for
you and you would not
melt nor would bring
any rain to quench
my parched tongue.
Poet's Corner 