Without water
Love has not washed our feet.
Depleted by jealousy
As sorrow comes with the next wave.
We have starved her
From those cliffs, with teardrops of heat
Beaming crystal woes.
To her lips
Where particles of dirt reside,
Some kiss to taste death
Upon those shouts through the tide.
Love starts open-wide,
Though drowning with breath.
Life stops
Only when clouds no longer rain.
Heartbeats become quenched
In oceans, folding flesh in drenched
Embraces atop the rocks –
While spaces fill with pictures cropped.
Clouds within the sunset
Live most lives.
Here is to another teardrop wept
For the morning’s sunrise.
Piles of Heaven upon the interlude
Where light collects,
Storing sores in the bruises –
With wars becoming scars in the stars,
Falling from grace, on all fours.
Modern Romanticism 