Modern Romanticism

Without all I did hear,

I will remain to feel fear.

Without the words of comfort

Crawling from a throat of silver,

Without the notes that caressed my worries to be null,

I have become

The very emotion, black as the abyss in me.

Your stare accompanied your song,

Your face showed a complexion so long

In its expanse, for there was much for the awareness

Of my own stare.

How far do your breaths extend

Over lands that falter in a drought?

I have thought the world divided in my place,

While it was only ever divided in me.

Your breath soothed my aching spirit,

Calmed my trembling hands,

Your voice carries me miles across

The distance between myself and the storm,

Where I had conquered the fears

That are so engulfing, now.

Love holds one forlorn kiss

To catch in another's voice.