Modern Romanticism

Start sailing

On the hollowness, of my feeble mind.

It has become your kind

In the drowning of a thousand more

In the depression, you do adore.

I wilt love like too much to give

Water upon the tulip.

Leave me to awaken this drear

To again, come near

That you may kiss the future away

From the shores where I may

Lift you up to see

Something better than me.

I have fallen as the angel who will not rebel

Against his own God,

For my Lord is a cold one

As I have been sent deeper than Hell.

Would you kiss,

Or merely miss

One whose eyes cast terrible shorelines

The waves that will continually cake

Circles around the lids,

Like swerving currents, leaving its trace

To make me bleed out the ocean?

I attempt, as I do,

To hang from the stars

To cease myself from the sip of wine,

The sip of bitterness

That is loosened upon my lips.

They were the ones you had kissed

With beauty to your sight,

Though it had been a feebleness.