I was thirsty
like the smelted sands of deserts
and you rain on me,
from the spring of your lips.
You were not a mirage
you were an oasis
of a sip
soaking in my soul
dripping from the gashes of my thirst
like ice candles
melting on my burning throat.
Though instead of quenching my thirst
those sprinkles
like salt water, like gasoline
emblazed my burn,
like the wail of excruciating scorch
in the redden charcoals,
like the river screaming, interlacing lavas,
lustering and cooling
at the same time.
