Modern Romanticism

Looking back
To my other end
Of the lake, that shares
Twisted,
Broken branches.
Her eyes leave marks,
Her form
Casts the storm.
She bleeds all over me
Grief, and pity.

Her life
Forged, through strife.
Curves that taint the Earth,
Growing weeds,
Brambles,
Among thickets,
Thorns,
Never the sweetness
I'd expect.
Her touch burns the forests.

Her form,
The waking to the world's end,
Our world's end,
To our familiar selves.
As we sink
Under the dry sand,
After the lake has been dried,
No longer her sobs
Call the weather to crash
Sunrise into sunset.

For I left a kiss
Upon the wet flesh,
Gifted a blessing, my eyes
For musing.
Her fingers curled against her bed,
As her eyes leaked only patterns,
To the lake that ran dry,
To the warmest welcome of Heaven,
She sees
What she dies for.