Surviving Winter

I drink my own pain
to wash away the memory of your face,
your lips, your hands,
your touch.
I spin the music ever louder
to vanquish the memory of your voice,
your laughter, your words,
your hymns.
A vanishing memory
of a romance not to remember;
summer nights, drinking vine,
making love or was it sex?
Left lonely is my paling tan-line
which like the fragile leaf
will turn to dust
when fall is here.
How could we survive the winter?

Leena,

I like this poem also. However, you say "we" at the end. That confuses me. Was it meant to be "I", especially you ask "Was it love or was it just sex?"?

Murthy

This poem was describes a romantic relationship that went on one summer; a lot of promises (long term) were made, but we did not even make it to the fall...so I question how we could make all the promises; how we thought we could make it through the winter. Does that make sense? Perhaps it works better with "I".

and so much more. There is much tenderness throughout this love poem. It is lovely and I enjoyed reading it very much. No lack of talent here...