Wet and Low

Most people leave you high and dry.
He left me wet and low.

A strange city was home to a stranger man,
All bets flew off the table, as we bonded over a common friend.
He picked me up after a long wait, through dust and storm,
to show me around the strange and dry land, deserted, yet warm.
Two days and multiple green buds later,
We fan-girled over each other, as he led me to his stable.
A bunker den was where he rested the most.
With ambitions and dreams scribbled above its wooden wall.
We crawled up a ladder, holding panoramic view of the dry land,
carrying more green buds, to enlighten our poison glands.
We spoke into the dark, under darker, grayer skies,
before he led me back to the ground, just to feed my hungry mouth.
And fed me, he did, without a breath or a miss.
And I kept getting hungrier, for I’m always famished.
He kept bringing me salads, while I was waiting for a six-course meal.
And I kept galloping water, hoping he would pull me below ground feet.
Continuing this tug of war, he offered me another hit.
I obliged, as I found him to be a rare caring breed.
Another hit, and he asked me to leave.
It was late already, was he really hoping to get some sleep?
Mine was majorly displaced after all the intake.
Despite, I was hoping to be served dessert,
But he walked me out instead.


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