Modern Romanticism

Lay down your nectar

Upon the hardest lips.

Your sweetness is a jealousy

For my defeat.

I love all lost

From my swollen arms.

Your eyes upon the hills,

My eyes upon the lakes,

My eyes creating tears,

Your form, the glaciers to the cold mountains.

Take the rope

From my neck.

We sing beauty to this long trek

Over crudest valleys

Carved from rotting hands.

Fall with me,

To where we can breathe

The subtlest rays

From the coldest sun.

Love has never been so lonely

To feel, in our desire to heal.

Nothing has made us,

As everything made our hearts.

Now that deception has told us a tale,

Would you like to see me hale?