Modern Romanticism

Are you
the final tear in
a rush of sand?
I killed the ocean
to get here.
I bottled those messages,
smaller words
to bring you around.
Lost signals
never docked the love.

Wasted shelter,
rotting arms.
There is a place to freeze
with a staying kiss.
There is nothing too late
to die for.

Keep this contrast
to the sun.
You have burned enough
to become this tough
to hold.

When you wake those lids,
push yourself to the surface.
When you live,
push the third wave
away.
Push me away.

When you begin to freeze,
watch me crash.
I had held,
while the waters kept showing me
the torn reflection.