I brought in someone, different.
Frank, with newness. Once bleeding out,
and here, dreaming while afloat,
keeping her scars close.
Marrying this world, combining
selfless shame with bottomless pain,
to become a witness to clarity
in a perfume of stars.
A deck, for a body
that has loosened itself up,
turning down, once, and reusing
those old notes, empty
in their shallow tone.
Whose hell was she holding?
Downsizing all those colors,
bleeding a form, out of shape,
out of place,
among her commonplace,
to, at last, save her grace.
No tears come down, exiting
from those open doors, open windows
of her once depleted soul.
All sunshine comes around,
referencing that termination, exquisite,
a culmination of sunsets.
An eternity once explored,
forever, at her life, explored,
coming around, turning around
a solidified, exemplified corner
to see a city rebuilt,
reforged, restarted.
Modern Romanticism 