I am parched without

you. One sip stops

the burning for a brief moment

before

it starts again only

 this time worse.

An open sore rests on my lip

inflamed and sore, red as

time fills it with

salt.

Numb now, you

return pressing feeling back

into my skin.

Dewy droplets

quench horrid

thirst. All better

I am struck, a match across

it’s box,

as you leave

again.

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