Poem – “The Wild Times” – Romance – 6/25/2020

Wait for the wild times
To say upon the current times
That they were not meant in their place
To see the thousand weeping faces.
The dangerous times
Place themselves on the seat of shame.
The gentler times
Are seated on the right place of life.

We are two foes
Who fight, in the throes, in the grace
Of winter's embrace.

I curse my bleeding
Heart, in its wind.
Freest, only when in pain.

Tell me stories, near to the flame that spurts the pain
In highest embers, lowest cinders.
We are wilted and chaotic, as parted clouds
Waiting for the new storm
To take our place.

Your love, your miles,
Your life, your trials,
I seem to only be, the pain for thee.
The music of sinister
Entertainment and pleas.

Our fingers, damaged
Upon the touch of our marred and scarred faces,
Drift from our burned palms.

Can we kiss, beneath the blue
In chasteness, without wastefulness?