We-Write-Poems

Delirium, for the We Write Poems prompt Osmosis; You catch her eye on the corner of King's and Guild's, rush of bright pink, blush. Gaze, furtive. A coy smile works its way across her face, before she disappears. A bird, startled as by a twig snapped underneath the lumbering feet of her unwary hunter- Half dream, half mirage, half stolen, garbled- fairy tale. You feel the fever- dry skin, throbbing head. Unrequited memory like the force of a hammer against rock, a blunt axe, Patagonian rosewood, a caged bird, tethered to it's roost. Your siren's sung- her half song, half lure. And like five bowstrings plucked till worn- all you have is the unsated thirst of your delirium.