Keep stealing your name from water,
As the reflection will keep you smothered.
Keep crystal to the soaring sunshine,
Capturing the next page
For wilting scenery.
I had kissed the finest of lips,
With ashes all to taste –
To red, coated in the gray sublime
Melting through, in carried waste
Within hands, onto haste.
Quickness to the droplets
That defeat the ocean
In vast width, over splendid horizon.
She drowned amidst the rainfall,
Sunk through a grasp, at mourning’s call.
Love depicted the flood,
The gravity for all that stood
Leaving notes upon the mouth,
Sold as graces to the tout –
For those who can carve out wealth
From the heart, to the dirge.
Her hair, held in this hand,
Her eyes for this defeated land.
A taste for what will not come
As the light to fill the gaps,
As the Spring to cure the Winter
In a form that rejects the sun.
How often will eyes become faucets
To wash hands in those brutal outlets?
Modern Romanticism 