Was it a brief spark
That lit the pathway
Far apart?
While our hearts burned on oil,
Becoming the plume,
The ashes we released from
Lips most kissed, beneath the blue.
Sequence,
With many unfurled sentences
That kept our eyes closed,
Focused on the scars where daylight
Is the evening through,
As morning walks upon the thinnest wire.
Once a beginning
To the sun being born, for our unshielded eyes.
At some lifetime,
An ending began more than we could bury.
Slip past
On the soil that surfaces the sand
With the ocean, aboard.
In love, while winter came soon enough
To cake our vows in white mud.
Was it a brief release,
An abrupt spark
To something that ended in rushing clarity?
Movement to a blur
On the road, heading to your lane
Where the quickest route becomes more narrow
Than our veins with missing blood.
Modern Romanticism 