Modern Romanticism

Hold a box upon, that presents my heart.

Your tired form, a place to be believed,

For I nest myself in you

To hold hands with an angel.

Though, your eyes

Seem to see the universe for its darkness,

Not for its belonging.

While I hold hands

With Lilith and her children,

I notice eyes that scream wonder

To the eclipse of my mind.

Let your void be filled with the sweetness

Of a different sun,

For yours is too tragic.

Though, you'll never seem to know

Where to place that idle gaze.

I see evil, being manifested

In lips I seek to kiss,

When blood spills over, from flesh upon the edge.

You've bitten too deep

Into a man's defeat.

What I thought to be,

To be my destiny,

Was in fact, false imagery.