Bleeding with
the smiles I crack across,
during these moments when
I kiss the wind
with all there is to cry
for, under the distant sun,
the absence in a moon
that curves in the shape,
the direction
towards your range.
If I loved,
then I will kill
to love, again.
I will end the world’s hearts,
to beat mine for yours,
I will overshadow
those, that count not
match us, in the rush.
We are divided
in the storm,
unloved, in the unending
sadness that keeps us stilled.
If I will
release you,
then could you
unleash this
vow, I mean to give?
Could you kiss
with all the radiant reminisce?
Could you grant forgiveness
if we could embrace
for the first-ever time?
It won’t be the last time
we will wrap our branches
around each other’s trunk,
for our roots are as sturdy
in our memories
as all remaining symphonies
stuck in the minds of those
who kept captivation.
In our love,
within the other’s eyes,
inside the sun
we cannot tell
is on my end or on yours,
without the moon
with faces that are never one.
Modern Romanticism 