Pump primed
A squeal of metal as rust crumbles
Groaning and gurgling with effort
The flow forced from hiding
By my energy

a trickle,
a sputter,
a gush

Warm, murky with sediment
No clear and cool refreshment, this
I will continue the motions
Wetting the ground with my efforts
Until the output is fit to consume

Patience is a word
That I had never cared for
Until I met you

I cannot pour myself into you,
And expect to receive myself back
I cannot pour myself into you,
If you are not there anymore
I cannot pour myself into you,
And for the next 12 hours I won't
I cannot pour myself into you,
But I want to