Both of us lost

Words comewhen the winds comeand trace their fingertipsup and down your skin when the spell of drygets quenched by the gulp of your tap waterwhen words form and dont say a thingbut those feelings spun by the heart etch themselves in writing amid the desolate desert of lifewhere no flowers thrivewhere there’s no rainbut the

Sweet sweet touch

Listen sweet thing; I’m not very political Or anything And it seems like you’re pretty basic And simply enjoy the sun, too And strawberries, ripe fruits, Chocolate cake, smiling Hugging and caressing Being close Laying on the beach, bare Making love and enjoying life. What else is life but a tasty quench from succulent fruits?