Scalding Sands of Time

My lips, well they're suffocating, choking,
dying from the scalding desert sands of longing.
These sands cascade, an eroding dune through the glass timer,
the malevolent grains hurrying to the bottom.

I wonder, as my heart begins to mirror my lips, if I'll ever again know--
the middle-of-the-night-union, with our silently-locked-eyes,
or the love-note-on-the-dresser that epitomizes love.

I stand tall, as my feet disappear into the no-so-terra-firma,
and make myself a better woman,
worthy of your love once more.