Only a Sip To Wet My Thirst
I had a dream of a lace dress worn by sculpted ice, although in modest form were the expressions she portrayed.
Dripping wet upon melting those crystal brook tears denting her diminishing cheeks.
It was the dehydration that betrayed us.
To breathe life forever more I must drink her.
Among all thy plagues and epidemic destructions one world could endure, those rolling drops of potent poison were apocalyptic.
I drank thy curse, an error of mortal design.
-Mitch
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
