All credit for this gorgeous gift of a title, which is the only reason this poem had any poetic life breathed into it, goes to a very special friend of mine, The Lonely Author.
I can’t imagine anyone reading this isn’t already a follower of this talented and charming poet, but if by some chance you haven’t read his words yet, I urge you to do so. He never disappoints and always enchants.
(Thank you for giving me this. Love, Fiery)
A thirsty kind of quenching kiss,
A missing piece I deeply miss.
A lucid kind of cloudy thought
Defeated victory I’ve fought.
A silent kind of loudest cry
A scalding tear that froze my lie
A broken clock that ticks my days
And how? Oh let me count the ways…
A sour taste of sweetest need,
A starving plate of hungry greed,
An opportunity to knock, upon an open, bound, chained lock
A sultry word that drips from lips,
With softest tongue my soul – taste sips.
A melancholy vibrant song
You whispered loudly, right (so wrong)
A love unspoken, yet declared
A heart well hidden, soul I’ve bared.
A champagne touch, my glass half full.
A lonely kind of beautiful.