Does the Sun know she blazes too brightly?
Does she know how I wish for her “goodbye?”
Does the Sun know the shadows she casts or are they out of her sights?
Do the Clouds keep her blind to the things she causes or
Is her ignorance intentional?
Pulling fleece over her own eyes
And if neither were true and she finally noticed
Would she care?
Care that tides only love the parts of her reflected by the moon?
Care that the rain comes down to Earth in blades
On their grand escape from the Sun’s cloudy grasps
Trying to cool the scorching paths she abandoned below?
Can she see she leaves me wrecked?
Or perhaps she already knows
She knows of her rays scorching sting and burns on because of it
She accepts her cloudiness as facts to avoid her own judgements
I may only exist if I’m bearing the consequences of sunshine.
