I Was,
a desert, devoid of fruition
barren, from years of neglect
praying for rain.
Then you washed over me, and I bloomed
Stifled and gasping for affection
wanton for connection, but never satisfied
drowning in desire.
You breathed into me, and I gasped devotion.
Lost, foraging for meaning, for purpose
a foreigner to love's labors
begging for solace.
Your star appeared, to nurture me home.
Now I am a mystery-even to myself
an enigma-filled mirror,
reflecting on who l was.
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