Modern Romanticism

Why would you swing

Upon the thread, pulled free from a bed?

Your neck is meant for kisses,

Not the bruise from a rope.

I want to hold you here,

Beneath the showering storms,

To shield you from both lightning and wind.

Let me

Take your tears,

Obliterate your fears.

Let us

Drown in this sacred love,

Fall over each other's limbs

Where we play in the passion,

Seated on thrones,

High above, in Heaven.

My love,

Your depression is something else,

Not for you,

But for something else.