Were we both miles apart,
For faces open?
With grueling smiles
Even more expressive
Than the heart did beat itself
Upon the crippled pathway.
With defeated glances
That flood the waves,
Apart
From our wind-torn eyes –
We will still reap what we sow
In fields still stained
With sweat, with disease
That grants the same blue blood
To the evening eyes –
Deep in the sores of an unused Heaven
We were meant to move to,
To find where our hearts had fled,
To remind us to words
Left unsaid.
Miles apart
With oceans that yearn
With the waves,
Same with our smiles
Being stern among interpreted milestones
We never crossed, being miles apart.
Following the rolling dice
Past your form, built in the wilderness,
While that
Is where I remember you.
Covered with moss,
A heart in a chasm of stone.
There was a game we played
Deep in the shuddering Heaven,
Tossing our sweat
As brittle droplets, to the depth
Where love was cold,
As lust was warm.
Modern Romanticism 