Bubbles sparkle my tongue, soured by lemon
quenching only the surface of my thirst
I need to be kissed by art,
to kiss art herself,
sense her effervescence,
without diluting the sparkle

I throw myself again and again
against the bitters of life
making music by kissing the bone of sorrow
so deeply as to delight
within the marrow of her joy

Photo by Jez Timmes courtesy of Unsplash


6 thoughts on “Tonic

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