There, you left. Choosing to bleed
for eternity. Though you will return,
coming back for the need,
the need to know that your hurt
can continue to lead.
Watered eyes replace no drought,
reprieve no such effects
upon a disused garden,
as your hands tremble in this
dim evening of your fading bliss.
Take shelter in more ruins,
tell your tale to another angel
from inglorious Heaven.
Or you can, as you will
find your scars matching.
From screams, for you
to be merged in the echoes
of my collected soul.
Countless chambers.
A chosen sadness. Though you
will find yourself inside of one,
someone who drowned you
to keep your broken eyes clear
against shadows that danced
that near to you,
never hearing you.
Of beautiful heartbreak,
to wash your hands in dark red
smears, while tracing all fears
within history’s tears.
Come here, leave those shadows
remaining there, and forget
everything that came before.
Modern Romanticism 