Simplest to grieve, burning
to disbelief. I keep still
these tears inside crystallized
expressions. Crying will
not open wounds, without
hopeless sentiments.
Hand on a heart.
Hearing heartbeats, plain
devotion that stays stellar.
Loving in a limelight,
undressed in daylight,
while Hell steps out of Heaven
in clothes labelled
in remorse on its course.
Will I realize these lies?
On each ocean where lies
a fatal drowning moment,
clear beneath stilled, timeless
days, ones that pass
between stagnant thuds
of a heart, threaded in veins
bleeding a hundred rivers
upon an infertile shore.
Tasting sounds within shells,
hearing voices inside Hell.
Love resides in its memory
that meets no death,
haunting life in its imagery.
Modern Romanticism 