absolution

the wet streets offer no salvation
cars streaked with last week’s dirt
the sounds of last night’s sweet elation
have drowned in this morning’s hurt

i offer up to the clouds your arrival
but it dissipates through my fingertips
i’ve thought: i need you for my survival
but it hangs unsaid on my open lips

water has not been a purifier
my tears have done no good
the desert is my sovereign empire
and there alone have i stood

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About ky

Poet. Photographer. Writer. Goddess. View all posts by ky

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