When the words

When the words

I need to hear

are not dripping

out of your lips,

I’m left wondering

if I deserve the

salvia of passion.

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Cactus

I remember the

cactus on the

windowsill, draped

over its pot

as if ready to

burst.

And prickly pokers

that always

scared me.

But as I think

about it now,

I miss it.

I miss the cactus

and its

monstrous beauty.