If we were to stand in the golden Sun,
hand-in-hand, heart-to-heart, I think I would melt.
My heart, yours for the taking,
would surely explode if only
we were to walk side-by-side
in the rays of the Sun.
But God is watching. His eyes are unrelenting.
Do you feel it? The eyes of God. They see. They see.
We are abominations. How could we think the Sun would not shun the likes of us?
You say you do not care. You say we are not abominations. You say the Sun is loving.
I begin to believe.
YOU ARE READING
undone - a poetry book
Poetrypoems. about death. about love. although i was never really sure there was that much of a difference there. for is it not true that when we die we are loved more?
