Modern Romanticism

Leaving loosened tresses
Upon the shores, where currents dance
As the sun raises
A highness, a glow upon cheeks that were meant for
The many lugubrious kisses.
She has deceit, that sometimes loosens
All tears to cross the delicate slopes
On the highest rocks.

I am, as I want
The love, to remain
While the stains are buried into angered hearts,
While fewest marks become loosened
Like fingers that unfurl
Softness from curls,
Of tresses bleak and mournful,
Of lashes from eyes that see the sky.

I have killed the gladness of a swollen vein,
Among all remaining tears that rain
Life upon the hollow selves
Of ourselves.

She is the woman
Of no defeat,
For I have left her ample dresses
To discard herself
To them,
While her skin is merged with the glass
For her admiration,
For her destination.

Empty rooms glow like rocks
Upon the precipices,
Upon the naked shores, with faded sand,
Faded photographs taken of a nude form,
Colored like ivory or snow,
Colored like the beige of bone,
Stuck upon eyes that loosen tears
To be kept upon cheeks for many years.