Desierto

You love me.

You love me like a bright desert flower.
Like the first fallen leaf of autumn.
Like a warm bed at the end of a cold day.

You love me like touchdown at the end of a long-haul flight.
Like Lightning from a distance.
Like the first sip of hot tea.

Those are not things you lay your hands on.
Not things you kiss for hours.

You love me.
But you don’t love me like that.
Why don’t you love me like that?

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