The Loss Of Contact

without contact
there is no flare

no electricity for
months
and you scream

that you will be
dead soon

it is like night
without moon & stars

like a dried river bank
all bare stones

an abandoned well
waters stinking

veins without blood
cracked lips without

clue of water without
gloss and shine

talk to me
if this is all about sex.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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