Modern Romanticism

Let loose your feathers,
Your wings come unfurled
To the blood of romance.
You curl your eyes to the sunset,
Radiant upon your back.
I seek to draw back a lock
Invading the space in your sight,
To be behind your ear
At the spot where I let stay my hand.

You are contented,
As you've consented
For me to touch
Wings that quiver,
Then to experience
The scent of Heaven
That erupts, from flesh.

You are the sickness I draw from,
Like a well without ending
To its seeping contents.

Your wings do bring
A solace to the moon, wrapped around your form
Like darkness to the sun.

I kiss your eyes,
Shrouded by the lids.
I kiss your cheeks,
Covered over by tears.
At last, I kiss your breast
Like a child for its mother,
To then sigh, when I revel.

Let loose your dying spirit
Upon this path, under my feet.

You are, what I crave
Of what, I could not save.