Modern Romanticism

Here is where

The Heavens quake,

As hearts break,

As snow falls

To make the tides rush in their white

Glimpses to fresh eons

Of something painless.

The unstable heart

Is but a while to be born,

Then an instant to be dead,

Faltering in every move

To be heard, like what rumbles in its veins.

I saw her,

By the cliffs.

Her eyes were upon the forests beneath her feet,

As her heart was set in the rising moon,

While her thoughts descended with the sun.

Let her die,

I did,

While the future held uncertainty on its threads.

Could I kiss her,

In the dark,

I would.

Though, her future is buried in my unstable heart.