Where petals roam. I can
hold your hand towards ceilings
that land our storms. That if
we want to breathe, we must
always keep closed our eyes,
always remain still.
Keep grief raining
on our bodies. Keep rain
falling on our oceans,
while we hold invisible hands,
while we hope upon sighs
that our curtains will burn,
that our hearts
will never yearn.
Hide those tears
in these endless arms,
as I keep your pages written,
finding our way
across, to that ending
that does not disappoint.
Your face, when it
sheds those petals of spring.
Your skin, where it
remains blank as clouds.
I will pull you into softness,
smother you in secrecy.
Passion burns us close.
Eyes remain being closed
to rain, that falls,
keeping us melting
in all that floated south.
Modern Romanticism 