No more than a vein
Releases, for the stains to grain.
A droplet from red to the clear
Warmth of some bitter pain.
We love until the dawn sets,
As the dusk rises,
While histories keep us close in check,
Weeping in each symptom, at all breaths.
We love, while clouds remain
To bring tracks on the desperate road
To smother, along with our sighs.
We love, while southern treks
Glisten white flags, wrapping our necks –
In the same unadulterated kisses,
With childish expressions cast nowhere.
Here with fever, dreaming through tears –
Nowhere in immaturity, loving without blisses.
Your storm to the admiration
For the faces that peel back
To hear sigh expelled, a form alack.
Floods roaming south
From expressions uncouth,
Burning in place of the sun
Where a dark spot now resides.
How many tears
Go with the flame, the negligent run?
How much water remains in the open
Wounds, infected as all things broken?
Modern Romanticism 