How long must I bear
only burdens of regret to you?
We meet in weekends
I crawl with wasted history
into your aching eyes
to rest for months.
I wake behind a cornea,
swim amongst old memories,
to find a pool
of forgiveness only inches deep
but miles wide.
You cry finally, years later,
rivers from my days of sin and sleep.
I fold like raindrops, fall
from your eyes to the floor
and stand to face the burden:
all that love knows is war.
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