Here’s those petals,
scattered. Clumps of gray
dispersed, in surrendering clouds,
hanging low. I have rained
enough lines, to dress
them with letters of scorn.
Burning shapes, worn
while rolling in thunder,
on these defeated shores.
Here’s our faces
displaced in a mirror.
I see where you dance.
Hear you, as you
are weeping from bitterness
caught as lost droplets
in a worthless bottle.
Are you this blue,
floating on an ocean
where we both melted?
Burning throats. Caught sentences,
after a sentence to a cell,
another connection to Hell,
forgetting me, leaving us
in those chambers of building blocks
we attempt to rebuild us two
towards a hanging noose.
A caress to a neck. A kiss
to repeat where we bleed.
Another memory
to test that heat of our fire.
A dream that thuds
in a painful breast. A thought
that hurts in a pounding head.
I’ll force you against walls,
punish myself among
thin layers of both of us.
Modern Romanticism 