I never forgot
to pull bliss from your heart,
to heal your naked wounds
even while you lay,
asking me to let you drown
while covered in silver,
connected to that center
part of a familiar room
where our screams
turned from ivory to shadows.
I never forgot
to remove furniture
coated in your presence.
I left my heart in a closet,
keeping my mind paranoid
that your sighs will enter
in from open windows, open
lips that gust towards
curtains of your continuous flow.
I never forgot to remove
what resembles you frozen.
When you walked
from this end of this earth
to where you wanted to leave,
I didn’t decide to follow,
I never decided to birth
a familiar pain from that love
we held on, if to believe
that our oceans are connected
through a grief too simple.
I lost you on those miles
you were reflected in puddles
formed from my fingertips
that once held an ocean,
before it parted, before it
became a damp desert.
I never forgot
to draw your name
in sands that keep
my hollow footprints
to be replaced by
new-fallen snow,
to be replaced
by those faces
I will never know.
Modern Romanticism 