Lewd object

you make my heart boil
like water looking for the bitterness of
tea

the temperature on my head
rises to the
level of the desert and i become
the Bedouin
racing with my black horse
looking for
oasis

there is water around me now
there are sweet dates and grapes within the mighty hold
of my hands

i must be cursed
i am never satisfied

this thirst and hunger
this difference
they are always
insatiable

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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