Bled upon the leaves
Was my sorrows.
I held tears on the edges of my fingers,
And swept them into rivers cold as ice.
Love held a bitter burn
Upon my tongue,
As a feeble memory lingers
In my trembling heart.
Love cannot be this miserable
To have undone.
For why is it
That I have to begin at square one?
Like two meadows apart,
She held onto the love, in her frozen heart.
As she gave it to me,
I drifted into the sea.
I drowned with the taste of love,
Gaining once more, the many apart from the one.
I drowned in the sicknesses of a thousand loves rent apart.
I sifted through the ashes of many years in the making