I am the wretched orange sky, a canvas painted with the hues of a dying sun, aching for the cool embrace of night. I am the thirsty desert ridge, yearning for the touch of rain to quench my parched soul.

I could be your poem, a melody of words whispered in the wind, a symphony of emotions woven into the fabric of your being. I might be the rhyme to your reason, the missing piece to your puzzle, the answer to your unspoken questions.

I am the frustration poured into your veins, the subtle ache that lingers in the depths of your heart. My bones know what they seek, even in the darkness of the night, they reach out for the light that only you can provide.

So let me be your poem, your wretched orange sky, your thirsty desert ridge. Let me be the rhyme to your reason, the subtle ache that binds us together. For in the darkness, we will find the light, and in each other, we will find our peace.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer