Drinking Love Cold Poem by ArmourQuill Hunter

Yes it's true; sometimes I wear my cross outside of the cold.
While Heathens dwell in muttered spells, that I won’t hold.
Sometimes at night, I won't leave the cross alone.
This is the time when I seem most at home.
Day-sleep shares love, until time takes leave from dreams.
Living in the real, I mutter far less in mournful screams.
My painted cross knows not the bitter; I’ve drank love cold.
This is my way 'to keep this life from growing so old...'

He hears the cries that I keep so deep within my pride.
He hears it in my touch, and he sees it in my eyes...
That cross I wear is always there when it is silently cold.
A prophet foretells of seasons, a forecaster 'oh so bold...'
My mockeries are my misgivings; still I’ve led some astray.
I would have him over, in a moment, but would he forever stay?
My painted cross, knows not the bitter; because I drink love cold.
This is my way, to keep this life from growing callously old.

Now there is an aging, for Wisdom is my glass.
Breaking forth into each new day, Wisdom forfeits the past.
One does loved me as a child, and thinks he loves me still.
Although, my passion of prudes and utterly “unfulfilled.”
While I slowly drifted away, still pursuing only God’s grace…
There were many times that I could have made a photo trade.
Timing was wrong (loving me) , for your decision had been made.