When thirst is my deprived sense
I tell of travels far from west
when you and I ate love all day
in a reality devoid of right
you smelled of blood
drinking your raw years away
I never think of you unless
thirst brings back that uncooked sense
when you asked – does the silver moon
light our path back to the west
the wisest lie I ever told you
was a promise I was being honest
I'm back to where everything sounds
and night talks don't deceive
where the sun reminds me of another
where my needs are of higher class
and the only memory of you
is thirst for your unripe lion eyes
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