Tell me, remind me
of those worms we dug
to get you deeper,
to bring flesh
down to earth
as a fire’s keeper.
Tell me of bonds, bondage
when we left you
writhing beneath shelter of
parasites, under sights
at blinded eyes,
at a storm’s cries
as love roped you back.
You folded hands, praying
to one love you never met,
aching at no passion
you ever slept, while
torture begins at
yearning on a thin smile.
Tell me to reprimand me
that life never brought
itself, as emptiness
into gleaming wine.
Tell me to understand you,
that no key to a grave
can ever unlock you.
You are as bonified
as those puddles around
your unwavering stance,
reflecting you
at second glance.
Modern Romanticism 