My Mind, My Mood, My delicately poisoned pen…

I am the desert
my voice is rocky and
therefore I have romanticized my arid years
because not much can survive out here
no one cares who comes and who goes
there’s wind but that’s all that flows
and will it carry your song right off a gravel cliff?
In the desert love isn’t what it is, it is what it isn’t…
All I want to know is are you a sand dune
in my sand storm
whose time has come to crumble and fall
because not much can survive out here
my voice is cold and
therefore I have hidden the minerals so easily extracted
if anyone cared what comes and what goes
It feels endless when its under your toes
my touch is finely textured
and I just wonder if you are
simply diverse vegetation
that scarcely sprinkles the landscape?
In the desert, is there love and if so, show it to me….