Glistening fog
About your wrists,
With gestures towards the paint upon walls,
With stillness to your face,
As you laid in the grave.
For as your fingers point to the earthen sides,
My eyes shower your cheeks.
As you lay there to be covered
By the damp debris,
I am here to read aloud the night
In my palms.
Your world
Is regrettably dead
Beneath all the smog and the hues,
Beneath the radiance of the sun,
Among the wicked blues.
Without grace,
You show no trace
To lift yourself
From where you lay there
Beneath my despair.
Loneliness
Shrouds me,
As peace
Laces you, in defeat.
Darkness is a puddle
For me to soak my arms,
My legs.
To kiss the sky when I cry
That my tears might float upward
To where you will reside,
No longer at my side.
Modern Romanticism 
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