I dreamed of entwining with you, In the finality of our youth. You spoke words that came to me as whispers. You dreamed of the world apart, While I saw it together. You fought with destiny, While I sought To make it breathe. You grovelled on the floor, At the face of death, While I yearned for a thousand more breaths. Our love came in a bundle of roses, Though there was one that could not die, Because it was ours. We cannot fight, When we can only fall. We cannot fight, When time is always the first to fade, To spread at our bent knees The many petals we once gathered. I still want to love, I still do, Though the clock has stopped moving. Winter has spun its threads about us As we cannot move.
Modern Romanticism 
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