Modern Romanticism

Why does love carry weight?

And,

Why can love so easily

Turn into hate?

My heart has fled from me

Away from me,

To the dark forests.

I must have lost track

Of the sin of creation

Called time.

The clock had once stopped

Deep in her arms,

Deep in her kisses,

Deep in her form.

But, she has slipped past my sight

To the audible cries of birds and rodents

In the thickening limelight.

But, I am unable

To see

Where she has gone

From me.