Run with them.
Those children, who
laugh near a river,
moving without shambles,
retreating into thoughts
without a teardrop
to escape them.
Their ignorance,
their views to see
beyond misery.
I lost what I found,
beneath these uncovered
rapids. Long trails of
glistening white, like that
of a wedding dress.
A rushing road
going nowhere,
I can predict.
You went on,
without me at your side.
You said this world
held darkness, without some
form of light. You told me
that hands were meant
to be held, even when
we are drowning.
I look for reflections
in children’s eyes.
I search for you,
among passages I cannot
enter, while you are
leaking from between
each crack in those walls,
in those alleys.
Losing hope
on a page I cannot write,
being an ending to another day
I pray will come, again.
Modern Romanticism 