Modern Romanticism

Romance seems to be

All that love grows to see,

Of your face in my hands,

Where I can bow my head to kiss

All the tears away from the Earth, your cheeks,

All the snow away from the fissures, your lips,

All the cruelty you've experienced, in your eyes.

Bliss is deafening,

Almighty in my escape

From my former place,

From the vapor in my lungs,

That releases into openness.

All you ever tasted was the bitterness,

All you now taste is my tongue,

As I am no cloud, above you.

My lungs, merely the wind,

My mouth, merely the open sky

Bare enough to pour upon you, all love from the universe.

What is love?

Merely the youth,

Merely the eternity into another tomorrow,

Within the life we have both borrowed

From the sun that is as old as our brightness.