Modern Romanticism

Long for the sake of a tale,
Where dust is scattered
Over burned pages.
Blossoming a kiss,
Opened as the flower
Within the velvet
Of the watery morn.

Her face, did it spill
The same ocean we crossed?

For her eyes to know
What torments to be endured,
As vain miles are covered
By pulsing vessels.

As oceans are concealed
With the blood that follows
The flood - 

I have come
To reconnect,
To relieve a certain distress
In mind.

Longing for the sake
Of a weary tale.
A voyage of great endurance
To love for once, in her arms.
Awaiting the skies to fall
Towards the bottommost,
Of our unending hearts.