Modern Romanticism

Dance with me

Through fallen rainbows

And birds that chirp

With nests too small

For hunger too large.

Will you melt over me

Your form, in the sun?

I will kiss and hold,

Everything that molds

Over us,

In this deep blue

Of scenery made for lovers, conjoined.

Oh, it hurts to write.

Oh, it pangs my form to say it right,

That I have loved until my breath gives out.