Modern Romanticism

She knelt in the fog,
Hoping for elsewhere
To take her somewhere,
Anywhere,
But here.
Her curls lifted
From the surrounded shade
About her forehead,
Auburn in each strand,
Loosened by each tress.

She fled,
While she bled,
Soon as she lifted
Herself, to see the moon.

All of love
Deprived, from her,
From the solace, in her heart.
I see two blue eyes
Making way
To further dismay.

We leave the moon
To mark her, in the darker
Elements, that take her,
Then leave her
With the stains upon her mind,
While she remains, safe and blind.

We curl embers,
About her fading shoulders,
Washing her form in a sentencing
To a bitterness,
Towards a meagerness,
In the falling droplets from her eyes.