Formless
For each shredded piece
Of uncaressed flesh,
To wait
On the other side of an edge,
Bleeding through
Envisioned, frosted gates,
While eyes
Send bewitching signals
To ships, on their turn
Past the blood.
A face of reconciliaton,
Growing
Embers, on the edge of eyelids,
While waves caress
Each carried form,
From the shore.
All broken stems
Kneel too heavy.
All petals
Fall too readily.
To trace
A signal, within the space
One form did fall,
Bent through
The distant call
Of fire,
Of a heart that bled
Without reason.
To wait,
While streams do blossom
Onto driest cheeks,
As the bleed
From eyes that weep
Their stories,
To tell.
Modern Romanticism 