Modern Romanticism

How many tears
Must soak the glass in my cup?
How many
Will leak from the shallowness of my eyes?
For all I've seen
Is the backwards of me,
As I surface through
The sun with its smallest share of darkness,
Because it cannot warm the universe
Where I am lost.

I feel ice
Upon my arms,
As there is blood
Between my toes,
Too many pairs of eyes
Have seen the way forward
That I cannot follow
Due to my hollow
Self, that does not leave an empire behind
I did adorn, with her kind.

What a life to live
Upon the magical soil
That sprouts only shadows
For me to swallow
Whole, through my throat where remnants of her Heaven
Was something of a burn
That never left
From the kisses,
The touches,
That etched me out among the rest.

What leaves emptiness,
When emptiness thrives, in me?

How many tears
Will circle my eyes, before they finally leave?

How much sadness
Can mock the essences of gladness
To never have a place upon their own throne,
While finality glimpses its reflection, deep in the muddy lakes?