For her, with ease to
Each fallen leaf with dew.
About her, to the smile
Each thorn grows,
For the while.
A grace among all
Emptied space,
A life,
Stolen away
At the blink
Of strife.
She weeps
Each fragile star,
Singing through parted lips,
While the waves
Break upon her scars.
Guilt runs inside,
White, within tides,
While petals smolder
In gray fields, uncovered.
Walking past sunsets
To the storm,
Where skies undress,
Un-shields
Itself,
From all to wield.
What bleeds on
In her,
Other than
What never left, within,
Being the ocean
That grants weight
To its centered state?
Modern Romanticism 