Modern Romanticism

Let loose the tendrils
To your chestnut locks
That twist sideways,
Curling towards your eyes,
Leaving sparks of this very lust
That clouds life into a moment, frozen in the wasted
Years of our plentiful time.

You have beauty that exists,
Though does not exist.
You mark your path through an entertainment
Of many forgotten hearings
From my own mouth.
I trace my way over your form,
Like the ridges to jutted landscapes.

I open myself to you,
Mistress of the night and the dew
That walks atop the petals,
Among the grass blades,
When not wishing to fade
Away with the currents that smile
Edges away from miles.

You have beauty to surround yourself
In a cloak about your shivering form.
You are the love that goes missing
From the equation of my certain world.
Existing and not,
Brought down and bought
By the ongoing lust of quivering flames.

Will you speak of the Hell we regret to save
From bodies that do not mean to fall
Directly to the grave?

Your eyes have the universe in their standing
Atop a nose that does not breathe
The scents of a million Heavens.