Are you playing new strains of your guitar,
Mysteries like the strings of my heart?
Using me when it suits your soul,
Shelving me when the sting subsides.
And you wonder why I’m distant
So I come close and you shift it.
You can’t figure it out but you want my help,
But only at an arm’s length and never mind the drought.
The emptiness that stretches between
Moments like a barren desert,
and contact in the daylight?
Scorching!
Yet again in the evening,
It’s a cool icy barrel pressed against my lips
To silence the balm they eagerly give.
And not just to one but to many.
You’d know that if you knew me at all.
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