Poem – “Empty, Wandering Heart” – Romanticism – 12/27/2020

Here, I hold
Darkness, with a taste
Of self-mercy.
Some illusion has seen me open,
Of faces yet to dissolve,
Of idiocies yet to depart
From a stained mind.

Her heart, I hold,
With dewdrops, so wide
Upon the rivers where dams collapse,
Where eyes close,
Where fevers become cold
Of veins that build the bridge
Back to home.

Of me, I scold
The iron that melts back into rust.
Burning intent
Left me a contrast,
A light to the moon
From the dark to the sun.

Her eyes, I saw
Of tears that caressed
Deep-red cheeks,
And made their trail
To lips that tasted the bitterness,
Down to soil that raised the garden.

For her, I left a rose
By a grave, where she slept,
Where she kept
Closed eyes, closed curtains,
A closed, descended sun.

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