Modern Romanticism

Once upon too many shallow evenings,
I saw her rise to the velvet morning.
She cried solemnness to the ivory moon
Before her,
As her chin stood on a pedestal
And her face was wet with tears.

I breathed what I saw,
And forgot who I was
When she rose upwards, to meet the stars.
Grace was her name,
And Grace was all to notice
In the wilderness about her feet.

I saw breasts made of porcelain,
And eyes made of emeralds.
I saw beauty that drowned me in my waking,
My crying,
My falling,
And I bled my last tear into the Earth
Before I came close to kiss her.

Lips made of the same flesh
The Earth swallows up.

Lips made of the same love,
I grew to protect.

My eyes were drowned
In an ocean of her storm.

My limbs were surrounding the form
That the wind could not touch.