The Muse is awake again. Here, have another.

Desperate and hiding,
heartache bleeding out every pore,
I survive here.
The loneliness, the hunger, the desire,
all stagnant at the bottom of the pool of my heart,
craving a comforting touch.
A hand to caress the dehydrated skin,
yearning for another taste of love
whatever form that may take.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017