Modern Romanticism

What was it

About the quantity

That made you

Closed to the quality?

A heart

Does not fit in a pocket.

Your eyes are going to be the last

To leave my sight.

For when suffering is gone from me

I have nothing left to hold.

You were the raindrop

To catch.

Though, bitterness will always be your greater ruler

Than ever my love was, to your heart.

You focused on the many

Over the one.

A dream wasted

On a pile of limbs.