(no subject)

[pokl]

As I settle back in,
like winter’s frost,
I, again, think
of chances lost.
I see you now,
and burn inside.
But it’s too late:
we’d just collide.
I’m often accused
of overthinking--
but I just feel bruised
from not drinking.
My thirst is not
for elements.
It’s for you…
for just a glimpse.