Modern Romanticism

Allow me to lick the tears

Free from your cheeks.

You have more to yourself, than the many years

To the sadness in your sleep.

I lay in opposite direction

From you,

And drink freely the falling rain,

From your eyes.

It is a bitterness, like a wine made from the Italian vineyard,

But I lick each tear away

Falling from closed eyes.

What is in your dreams, my love?

Who do you really sleep with, my love?

My love, what has created your woes,

Your agonies, under the reddest moon?

My love, drain it for me,

From your veins, to me,

So that I may consume what poisons you

In every part of this drear,

This haze,

This blaze,

Of sadness,

So nothing is left, but the love.