Modern Romanticism

Come drift with me

Through the wasted fields

Where flowers did bloom

And then met the gloom.

I am in grief,

While you are in disbelief.

Turn upon me,

If you must,

I will still hold a candle to see

The fading snow in your eyes

That melts off the corners

And drops in smallest droplets

Down to your harried lips.

All the futures

Collapse,

Upon the knowledge that we are no more

In each other’s arms.

Too much to take,

And just enough to break

While we decide to fade

Like truth that never wades

Too much in the shallows

Of a pond of tears.