You were a Traveller,
stuck in a hot desert.
An uncanny gentleman,
Somehow succeeding in his newly found wanderlust.
I was a gust of cold wind,
That went past and touched you,
Eased your tensed muscles,
dried the sweat that bothered you.
The weather was fiery in there,
Your body couldn't hold in any longer.
So I became a cloud,
floating right above your head,
Soaking you wet, wherever you went.
But not long before you started feeling rashes on your skin,
the excess of wind was dampening your limbs.
Not long before your whole body started itching from my touch,
Not long before you wanted to go back in the heat again,
feel the sweat dripping all over your body again.
You were a Traveller stuck in a hot desert,
And i was the cold-cold wind.
But a lot of me was mere pain for you.
Not long before you wanted to let go of me.
-Azmii•
YOU ARE READING
In Verse
PoetryI trace verses from my portrait. A collection of poetries • by Azmii (•Image credits to the rightful owner)
