Modern Romanticism

Those stones around
Us, in the wastes
Seem to be alike my arms
Pulling you down for the taste.
A gravitating grasp, is the entirety of Saturn
With scents visible for the air,
Inextinguishable for their lasting
Through our merged stares,
In love, without makeshift care.

I find you visible for my form,
Your words dressed the bandages, torn
With eyes upon the settling horizon
That views one rising Monarch.
I simply cannot say
Which face has its way
Of the moon, nor of my own,
When waters are pulled of you,
A tide taken of the ocean.

Droplets see themselves
Wetting my drowning face.
Visibility is a must,
Your form is not yet dust,
As I blow out the candle to the right of us,
Douse the lights that did not rust.

Our sun is the shining moon,
Offered through your ivory face.
Glimpses, among shades
That fold my mind against your heart.
You seem to sustain this
When gravitating arms embrace your waist.

I thin the thorns
To a mere pencil mark
Upon the outline of your breasts,
Upon the burn of my caress,
When fire lands against one frozen heart,
Though I've no fuel for a true start,
To the now when I know
Your body has been on the cart
Of dead embers.