Modern Romanticism

Broken mast,

Torn sails,

And no movement to burn a bridge

While your eyes still set upon the horizon.

Drifting motions

Drown you to sleep,

As tides gather our tears,

While the earth relives our fears

In trembling hearts.

Folding your hands against your bosom

So wide with tears escaping closed eyes,

I can wear a crown of thorns

If bleeding only pleases you.

Neptune once raised me,

As Bacchus once drowned me

In a storm of wine before the dine

Upon a million more kisses,

In your arms, where a final stroke did harm

My heart, where dreams come, shattering.