Modern Romanticism

With each beat of a hollow heart,
Each ache pressed against my chest,
There is still the warmth of you,
To my vague recollection.
Your beauty matches symmetry,
Easily shattered.
Your eyes, the suns for my blindness,
Your form, the pain I absolve
So swiftly under the burning oaks
With their falling boughs.

I want to simply part
The ocean from you,
My tears from you,
My beneath from your overhead.
You are the solace that I endure,
The plummeting scorn that has obscured
Me, in the desert's heat.

What are you
To me,
Besides the pain that is drunken from,
Like I am the infant
Upon the mother's breast?
The glinted sapphires, of your eyes,
Claim the green of the forests.

Your skies
Rain upon me,
Clash against me,
In everything I wish to grow
From me,
In the dead of me.