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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.

 

© Soshinie Singh

Author of the Phoenix Letters and the Mist Calling