Late, with love abound,
wringing drops from stains.
While you wake,
let your feelings grow.
There can be more
than what stays concealed
inside a folded undertow.
I leave life undecided,
distill a heart from
forever being reminded
at Heaven’s fallen ways.
Walking forward, with
crystal at all sides.
We lose less than we
are able to believe.
Metal rose weakens close
to fatal mornings of
your descriptions of love.
Light never grew this dark
when sensations were different
beneath grains called stars.
While buried, when awake
how much more will break?
A heart that fused
into hands that used
all its strength to
call out lies we knew.
Modern Romanticism 