How I would wish to feel

the taste of love

on my lips,

dripping down to my heart

and feel the bitterness wash out,

and all I would feel

is alive again.

I would know that I was alive again,

and the warmth flowing through me

is what you call love,

a myth to me

but water

for my parched lips

in this desert

that I call home.

Time is sand flowing through my fingers

as I watch shadow after shadow

fall over me,

and my lips are dry.

When was the last time

I tasted love?

When was the last moment

I felt alive?

How long have I become this sand,

hard and cold to the touch of life?

Will the water flow down

from someone's heart one day?

Will someone come save me,

or do I forever stay

in shadow?

Taste of Love

by, Melissa R. Mendelson