All those autumns, parted together,
but we sewed each word. Still managing
to bind roots into a knot. Here, keeping
our tears streaming off living verdure.
Still calling for your warmth,
running from a gaping pair of lips,
vacant from one more soothing kiss
to keep winds moving –
our words, promises in unison,
our lives still with thumping hearts,
watering down our pain
to a regrowth of repetitious,
merging memories.
We walked up and down paths
with rotten walls, with graffitied names –
though, with our disguise in a corner,
our tears collected
in that spot of pushing breaths,
surviving life, carelessly selected.
What did we deserve?
Rivers of tears merged in with blood –
eyesores, among bedsores
in stilled embraces,
watching nighttime loom
from a dreaming state
in shivering daylight.
Modern Romanticism 