Modern Romanticism

Your eyes
Rain all my nourishment.
I shall not thirst,
Nor even hunger
With all your sorrows dispelling from moon,
With blackened sun
At our backs.

Ashes come to my mouth,
Dried of moisture,
As your eyes are the apocalypse without the rose,
For no spring could be ever triumphant
Upon the shores of my defeat.

I am on my knees for a different reason,
For my name is forgotten.
I am lost in a book
Without findings.
I am merely the word that loses its meaning,
For I have spoken too much
To erupt purpose.

Depression has my heart solid
Upon rocks still colder.
A casket is where I lay my embers,
While my lungs are full of blood.

My mind, riddled with memories.
My eyes, full of tears.
My dreams, poisoned by doubt,
My lips crack only at the dryness of a heart.