How many tears can I look at you,
Of unmatched streams
That follow a road towards your feet,
Where men used to place their lips?
Your eyes are the sentiment that needs no balance,
For you’ll refuse the scene
Of finality to your pain.
You’ll refuse the curtain drawn
About your blank face,
For the script taught you lessons
You’ll come to accept as reality.
A love leaves you nauseous,
A dream follows oceans after you,
A kiss stains the weather with gray,
Losing light in your every step.
I can treat
The coldness with a blaze,
If you can allow
It to cast a rope at your feet.
You can kneel there,
Praying for better skies,
Though you’ll refuse the offered answer
In the craving for lies.
In a palm, where a felled tear was here
To say that your burdens are your cloak
The fever to you.