Modern Romanticism

What can we make

Of two faces, identical only in the light?

That are in love, like a pair of stars?

Are we ever too distanced,

Or apart?

And do we still love?

Did we ever despise who we were

As lovers?

Are we entertaining death,

When we dance?

Are we ever seeing an ending

To our romance?

Love’s wishbone, is whiter than any Reaper,

Any skeleton,

That will dance for us, upon our command,

And leap away from us.

Let us hold hands

Through this merriment,

And with a face for a face,

Kisses blue and deep, in the bliss

Of a sensation, upon love’s wishbone,

The white clouds, upon the blue background.