Love is inherently luxuriant and aqueous

There are unplumbed canals within me where
love runs thick like pudding through a soda straw
deafens me and
I am left with mouth parched, somewhat achey
searching for any such sweet liquid to sate my thirst

This hydrous is distant
necessary and of want
Only the tick, tick, ticking of time will
deliver the candied kiss of love’s immersion
a baptism of sorts

You know, it’s
tantalising and so close I can almost

taste

it

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