you are refreshing water to a parched throat;
providing a stinging remedy that works in a painfully slow way.
strangely, the ache is what keeps me going.....
the more it hurts, the more pronounced the longing.
maybe you haven't realised,
but you're the water to a desert:
so precious, so wonderful and treasured
running down my throat, so pleasured.
but maybe you're a mirage in a parched desert of all life devoid:
an illusion, so hopefully, deadly beautiful
for believing this is true: oh, what a fool!
oh woe; avoid, I say, avoid!
the imperative words fall on deaf ears,
as I plunge headlong and deep
into a never-ending abyss of quicksand
into the obliteration of infatuation!