Open heart
To the petty gusts
Brought forth
From the heartbroken surge,
To the relief that divides
The heart from grief.
There is water in your veins,
Bleeding out for the pain
We both were singing for,
Beneath the immaculate bedsheets.
With faces heavy in the weariness,
While eyes shower grace
Upon hands made of metal.
I choose to hold you
Out of all other options,
For one last time to dip these feet
In the everlasting scar.
I walk among
Your life, for one fairytale
Moment in the damned
Meadows of your mind.
While cradles hold
Infant and winter’s cold,
I turn towards the summer
With a message
Contained in the few droplets
Left, to escape for.
Modern Romanticism 