Poem #1,769 – “Tragedy’s Voice” – Romanticism – 9/10/2021

You were waiting,
Blind with me,
Screaming in our distant torments,
Plagued with the same sickness
That kept thumping our hearts
Throughout the same wickedness.
Wishful,
Blissful, to the condition
That our road would not reach the same
Temperature, in steam to rise
As our faces depicted in the grain
Of the stormy galaxy.

Distant dark,
A few stars to spark a fire
That would rival the sun.
Our tragic voices bidding the ocean
To a farewell, on its journey
Without motion.
Kissing the rain,
Letting the moon fall droplets
Of our beloved pain.

Dark denial,
Warmth that drives the nails
Into flesh, with the sacrifice
Of two hearts that were not beaten hard
In rhythmic, ecstatic pulse.
Born on the cross,
Waiting for the fever
To bring the loss.

We kiss on a mission of suicide,
Waiting until the day stirs away.
We wait for the dark
To massage our light,
To hold our burning arms
Embracing cold for the distant rush
Of liquid on moving glaciers,
Arriving in a million years,
Too late
To the end of the world.

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