Awaiting you,
bandaged by the shadows
of the trembling leaves, behind.
One kiss, I never had
in the embrace of your sunshine,
while the moonlight now allows
these tears to keep me blind.
A broken dream,
torn, fallen stream
from a glimmering eye at night,
while I hold your paragraph
of tearstained devotion.
I nestle your memories
into a bleeding furnace
of a heart.
Your name leaks everywhere.
Oil for a lantern, water for a flame
I will feel while Heaven ignites us
as candles, the same.
A whispering scar.
A raging river, a serrated curve
where collisions upon teeming openness
left hours for the sake of wonderment.
We related not in blood,
though in pain, with the open wound
unbinding the flood,
carving our sounds in all years,
with tears in all days.
Modern Romanticism 