Modern Romanticism

Twilight is our embrace,
Shedding tears
Without waste.
My face greets the morning sun
Upon hollow earth,
Dreaming
For new stars that crater the ground,
Making dust,
Forging rust,
Bleeding violet from roses
That hold only red.

I hold the daffodil close,
Like I hold the primrose in my mouth,
As I fold the orchids about my wrists,
Kissing
You, in the trembling me.

Weed
Out the unfortunate
Sorts
Who lose their lives on the rocks,
Leaving lakes, striking matches on sand.

I am your eyes,
The world surrounds us,
As it dies.