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Modern Romanticism

The aspect of romance, divided between the heartening and the thoughtful.

The Scent of Grief

May 5, 2019
romanticindeed

Don’t die, for the lingering sigh,
In harmony, of shadows old.

As I saw your face, of white,
With folds, of skin, among iron,
Death had painted Hell, on a frown,
For my nose, to cling, to its scent.

What would Heaven offer, if Death denied her form?
God, who stalks the bramble, of empty skies.

I am loth, in beginning to toil,
In merciless, unfurling of grief.

You had hair, which tossed beneath, your eyes,
A frail face, of listless beauty, drowned by sorrow.

Where spiders crawl, on a grave,
And snakes, devour a carcass,
In your arms, I knew of Love.
In my soul, I knew of Hatred.

I gave God, his desired Beauty.
Where salvation, would bring, an eternity.
Though the rivers, were formless,
My tears streamed, in endless currents.

Next to my beloved, who lays mangled,
I notice an arm, which clings to your heart,
That heart, which lays bare,
A heart of love, not shared.

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