Thirsty Mouth

She is a cup of pure water, her drops the love of maidenhood. The touch of your lips upon the edges of her tender cheeks will awaken them to draw a delicate smile. She is distilled, yet she needs you, amid landscapes steeped in strangeness, to find your likeness, to catch your voice, to learn freedom from you. She will be diluted with first blossoms of sorrow, will fall in love and suffer, pray she might emerge unharmed, beloved, when you surrender her to the desert oasis. For a moment she will be swallowed like prey, enveloped in mystery, like sand amidst the current. The palate will dry, the pharynx will sigh endlessly, you both will no longer be as you were before. And one bright day a conversation will roll forth upon the waters of a tranquil lake, and sand will sink, for it must, in a mouth thirsty to chatter again. And you, like the waters of a rising spring, burst from the heart of the mountain, wait for her like a reservoir. Your depths, pure as the concern of a friend, and she shall drink your drops until her thirst is quenched.