one of those days
when the clouded roof
of winter begins to crack,
golden drops fall through
the bending shingles;
the sun’s love begins to drip
like melting snow.
the falling drops
feed the red flames of the horizon,
burning with the half promise of summer.
those promises I had made you
at the tip of my tongue,
at the edge of my reach
--also begin to melt.
wait just a little longer.
but despite the begging of the clouds
I breath the burning air
and let the embers
settle in my lungs;
I refuse to recoil from the pain
when your words
burn through my frigid body
like the scornful summer sun
through melting snow
when the clouded roof
of winter begins to crack,
golden drops fall through
the bending shingles;
the sun’s love begins to drip
like melting snow.
the falling drops
feed the red flames of the horizon,
burning with the half promise of summer.
those promises I had made you
at the tip of my tongue,
at the edge of my reach
--also begin to melt.
wait just a little longer.
but despite the begging of the clouds
I breath the burning air
and let the embers
settle in my lungs;
I refuse to recoil from the pain
when your words
burn through my frigid body
like the scornful summer sun
through melting snow
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