Now that
crying eyes have solved
all frames and puzzles,
I’ll look at your watered lawn,
your garden that gleams
among regrown forests.
I’ll look at our bed
where shadows have arrived
from set suns, closed eyes
resting for greater depravity
at retained thirst.
Building our fates
to surrender to what we
both remember,
holding droplets to soak
another page in our bible,
weeping in vain
for forgiveness.
Missing your kiss,
slipping a ticket close
for parking in my heart,
beyond all hours
you ever deserved.
Closing down our states
to remember those waves
growing higher,
hearing horns at a sign
of what stays side-tracked
on an illuminated highway,
knowing that
I arrived the wrong way.
I arrived, knowing
I’ll fall in those same arms,
soft as melting skin,
melting with all that snow
staying as glimmers on
a frozen heart beating on.
Modern Romanticism 