I watch,
as time is slowed down
to a ruin.
Beneath these feet,
a bed is storming and crumbling.
I view
rippled sheets into tidal waves,
renewing
those lips to exhale
a thousand more sighs
before the world ends.
Kissing your chin, as if
the edge of a wine glass.
Lifting you,
of those pendulum hips that
tell time to an alarm,
that to the fire
will reveal you apart from harm.
Branding fingers to a form
that burns in its signals,
of hands that
hold more tears than the eyes.
Weeping while shivering
in pleasures, abandoned
to funereal dust.
We roll around,
covered in the other’s ashes.
Time crosses over,
telling our lives as too different
while the mirrors, our eyes
fell the planets
from the lower lids.
Adrift, to the stars,
murdered in uncovered oceans.
Tears and sorrows in
passion caught, within.
In love and in remembrance
to the smoldering sounds
where faces kiss
as pain rebounds.
Modern Romanticism 
🖤 So very beautiful. 🖤 “kissing your chin, as if the edge of a wine glass.” 👏
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