Poem – “The Coldest Sun” – Romance – 3/10/2020

Mount me up
So that we may sail
Over the widest terrain
And beneath the coldest rain
That descends from the frigid sun.

Let me gather myself
To see what I have missed
Among her sad tale.
Love gave me a wing, to fly on my own
On the scarred landscape.
Yet, I have only gathered her pages
To share them.

The warmest drink
Is from the coldest cup, the coldest pair of hands,

That are only such
Because, the sun was there, to leave.

And so, it shall
Come to belong, in her mind
That love was not shared from the same bottle
For my hands were drenched in the blood of others,
And their bitter warmth.
They stain me,
They drench me.

Love seems to pass
Like one felled day, to the next

Like one dropped sunset,
Like one dropped body,
Landing in the grave.

I am not among myself,
When the coldest sun pitches its tent on my conscience,
And names itself not to be love.

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