Modern Romanticism

Wrapped around and clean
Of the woes to a dismal paradise
That left you weeping
On a tombstone, tempered by your sorrows,
Yet rusted by the leaving heart.
I will hold what is left
In golden palms,
Loving psalms,
Attach a rope to your feet,
With a cuff to your wrists
To keep you captivated.

I will keep you nurtured
Against the wars of your mind,
Not leaving you to the walls
Lined with the scars of loss,
Bloody loss.

You are beautiful to the eyes
Of a man with nothing more to despise,
Little one.
You have yearnings echoing from within,
As nothing I can leave you in.

Your morbid cries
I once heard you hurl forth
To the winds of your paradise
Is something not ideal to the storm of life,
Not for the halo I shall set atop your brow
As the jeweled crown of your ease.