You pencil your tears
onto aging years.
Love regresses into those
pages you will undress,
leaving only
folded covers,
surrounding your vulnerable,
embittered shelter.
Untie yourself.
Tell a shadow
its wholesome farewell.
Pine over that wrong light,
but find your eyes
turning towards
an unhindered sight.
Traced in a mirror,
sculpted around me.
Shapes once torn apart,
asymmetrical among
shed tears, shed leaves
from hands, from branches
once hung low.
Be here. Reach high,
in an unquivering glow.
Changing fortune,
from a once-tortured motion.
Oceans no longer conceal you,
as answers are here
to connect you.
From winter’s
aging palms,
to summer’s
surrounding psalms.
Modern Romanticism 