Hope is a Finite Resource.

Hope courses through my veins,
but one nick and it empties onto my skin. 

Every sun kissed afternoon fills me with desire,
just as quick as the cold nights deplete me. 

Passion presses against my teeth,
but it lacks strength to savour. 

The bottom of the well is translucent,
waiting for every nick and cold night and tepid tongue to quell what’s remaining.  

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s