Modern Romanticism

Laced with the ebony,

Raw in material,

To drown my day away from the fray,

To make a song from her eyes,

To soak a curtain with her blues,

To hide ourselves among the faraway

Glances to each other's heart.

I find pain to show more solemn vows,

Fevered in touches,

Warm in glimpses,

Iced in seeds

That raise up a torture, upon the furthest stone

From the faraway beach.

I am still new to be bled

The red from my arms,

When once her gravity weighed me down

To be embedded in bed

With deepest joys.