Simple torture,
bared exquisiteness.
Laying there without a heartbeat.
I have come, expecting a feast,
while here you yield.
You pause before this cliff,
hoping our moon will fall,
to drown an ocean into wide pale.
I lift, while you sift
through memories in one
vanishing heart.
Let your tears drop
into departing sunlight.
Nothing quite quells your fright
as rain being shed into light.
Mixing torment with relief,
letting arms come into a sweep,
leaving love to rule
its space upon a seat.
There are spinning reels,
with messages in wheels.
We turn everything that must
burn, inside its burial compartment.
We wave farewells
at receding tides.
Take everything into consideration,
if you can. While we are lesser,
we flood through in indignation.
We let free our sparks
on shimmering sands,
bending our knees,
to discover where mirrors land.
Modern Romanticism 