Soft as the sand in the Sahara, she is
As dry as bone from one's who have been lost, she is not.
As rare as water, her heart may be found,
To swallow the purest is but a mirage.
A desert's illusions are tangible.
Her sandstorms are light & damage the weak,
Her I will search until I may drink.
Illusion is tangible.
Nightfall:
My hands as cold & dry as can be,
No worries, her cacti bring blood to the meat.
Discreet & subtle, she will not defeat
My search for her: for her heart to keep.
Water, Illusion. Heart, blood.
Love, tangible. Her, desert.