we come back to this
like a watering hole
oasis of sandy miracles
how I manage the whole weary of me
to hold nothing but heavy breath.
can't carry more than i can carry.
the way your sunsets
burn deserts to the ground
the mornings you don't find
me, beautiful
in the cold of when i need you
most,in the quiet of
angry storms of dust
raging my wilderness.
didn't think
we would still
come back to this.
Copyright © 2011 Arielle John
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