Modern Romanticism

Broken twigs,
cut fingers,
wandering warrior
bleeding Autumn into grey.
If I led this heart
across unstable bridges,
I meant to hold
your shivering hand.

What keeps me unified
in colors of white flags?
What keeps me dragging clouds
that hold buckets of water?
What keeps me crying for Neptune,
when Mars will war on?

You face those
jeopardizing moments,
sheltering your shadows
if to keep me at a distance,
while you grip those
statues of ice,
forgetting flavor of blood,
losing your path, on this flood.

I want to brand
all our promises
into endless sands.
I despise those oceans,
as I am to drain them,
that we might cross without
screaming when being without.