A heart takes its journey,
Takes its toll
To the beats of a staircase
With the jog upon its slope,
To find you seated
With blue to the skies of your eyes,
While messages are folded in your hands,
As Heaven was never warmer.
Your smile,
An elegance I have awaited.
Though you will not trust me,
Remaining in my flame,
As I am,
I adore the curve across your face,
Placed as I am
Furthest apart from you.
Let me lose my hero’s self,
For I was never worth the honor
Of badges that have burned off
To the destitute soil.
I have torn this heart out
With my own bayonet,
While soldiers run on
In their closing wounds.
I have wanted to cry
To the years we had, together.
Though with the final wave
To a glance that always mattered,
Your song will be kept in my throat
Always to speak in your voice.
Modern Romanticism 