You hang off Lips made of marble In their clash with the silence Of eternal night, Of eternal torment in your young heart. If you have love to give, Then offer it, now. The world does not last on goodbyes, When we have many who shield their eyes From coming storms. Clouds hang loosely Off the edges of stars. Will you see me kiss the sunrise, While the shadows grow longer? Your face has a smooth complexion That bleeds years into tomorrow. I grace my hand to your cheek To kiss you, softly, Under the velvet opening of the moon, The one you have coated in gloom.
Modern Romanticism 
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