Bit the naked curve
For where you swerved
Into the collision of reprimand,
Within the sight
For who did demand
The sunset to be elsewhere,
If not in the rotting circus.
Cheers,
Jeers,
Disembarked tears
Wash on the road
Of everyone’s fears.
Weeping for miles
Curvaceous,
For symptomatic whiles.
While love pours
From a heart
Of no one’s kind,
Heartless death keeps you near
To bleed with the tears,
Razor sharp, with the fears.
Our love,
A strangulation
With nothing left
In the heart, to call a home.
Fervent
In unending galaxies,
As bare upon your throat
A star seems to die.
A pendant
With weeping breath
Of nebulas,
Churning
And yearning
For the messages on empty
And disused pages.
Love runs
From your eyes to my hand,
Lost in
Bleeding ruins,
Ashen landscapes,
Wilting scenery
Where debris is for our knees
To kneel, in sight of surrender.
A strangulation
Around your porcelain neck,
While love holds its breath,
Singing songs
Through trapped voices.
A star by the shape
Of life, without its wake.
For grief, within the disbelief
Of our blood, in its naked flood.
How go the sounds?
Love, a life sentence
To the prison of our farewell
Upon the road
That never ended well.
A churning
And a yearning
To find where feet did press
In the soil, where we did undress.
Modern Romanticism 