★ ★ ★ ★



The only thing that could slake my thirst is your kiss.
The sweet honey, darling
that drips from your lips.
It makes me sing like some kind of warbling dove
mourning the loss of all my alone time,
the meandering, endless Sunday afternoons
meant just for one.
I knew I’d only have you if you were sweeter
a tonic with just
enough bitter &
you’re alright. An angel,
salt of the earth,
of the rock,
of the ocean–
warm against my skin. My chest
protects each drop of sweat
and, how I want to meet each rivulet
before it waterfalls off your body
star-dotted sky.
Collect this nectar
like some ancient potion.
My hungry hands
desperate against you,
of you, for you,
our limbs like an old tree–entangled,
and the prayer escaping my lips:
stay, stay, stay.

Laura Masters is a fiction writer. She received her MFA from Emerson College and her work has been published by Spirited Magazine, Exile, and can be found scattered about the internet if you google her name. Originally from Buffalo, she lives in Boston and works as a copywriter, and has a very big soft spot for Ohio (where she lived for 6 years). She believes in being kind to everyone, respecting the ocean (it’s big, it has a lot of secrets), and looking up at the stars. Follow her on Twitter: @lauraemasters