For all directions you crossed,
Waiting for arms to swallow you,
Weave your smile into a curling crown.
You kept to the haze,
Saw you comforted in the loss.
Weeping with sounds being emptied
To the silent rooms that carried –
Each tear upon the rugs,
Each blood droplet from your hands,
Concealed in shadow where it lands,
Open to the rope that tugs.
Can you wait for the moon to set
Apart from each color you never wept?
A pale strike to a burning match
To count towards Autumn’s hatch –
Where what rains will now lift,
Where what stains will now drift
To the open, musing field
With fire’s touch to never wield –
The sadness you kept to console,
As all scars were never whole.
Find what pulls you overboard,
Or leave yourself denied
To the love that shares its time.
How many eyes dined upon your ashes,
While sun and moon continued clashes?
Modern Romanticism 