This river flows
Wide, with the gaps of my mind,
As I hold
Twin hearts for the beat of one
Beloved kind.
Her stairs
To a hollowed-out chamber,
Her stare
To welcome me through
A near collapsing fixture,
An oaken bramble
Of a woman,
So slender, yet burned
Of life.
I hold
Two stones to make a purpose
So deadened,
In heart.
So beloved, in spirit.
A lake filled with so many,
Yet voided is the lake
Of its solidity.
I gravitate
Towards the bottommost.
The triumph,
This bewilderment
Upon the thinnest voyage
Through cylinder veins
To meet you.
Modern Romanticism 