Infiltrated

I am soaked in you,
Like an old white rag drenched in murky waters.

I wring myself,
Hoping to watch you drip.
Or lend out your musk to warm daylight.

But I am saturated.
Like an arrogant fruit,
I dry myself under burning stars,
waiting for you to be swept away, and preserve what is left.
But you refuse to disintegrate,
Clinging to my skin.

---

Perhaps you are soaked in me;
I am the water and you are the resin.

Perhaps it is me who has to transpire,
And leave your accumulation behind.

But I am destined to wait for the moonlight;
The sun does not dare approach.