A thousand and one times

A thousand and one times
I kissed your hands
and let them slip away.
I am the one who conquered
the lion on that cold
sand of Antioch.
I carry on my wings
a glorious sword
and the shame of
not having loved.
You return to me,
treading the earth,
illuminating my shadow
with dragon flames.
Someone sings
in the distance
the herald of
silver rain.
Something is
about to melt
between my shoulders.

m.p.

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