For how far
will these passions ever stir?
Fatal comparisons.
Endearing journeys
driven west, brought forward
to serenity’s test,
as we fall forward
into arms that sink,
into compassion, underneath
passion, brought low
with our falling hearts,
like all raindrops
turned from fire,
into relief.
To surfaced reconnections,
with shells about us,
we lived without heartbeats,
with smoke that came from
abandoned embers.
No one hears
a sound, we used to make,
drifting on these tethered shores,
blanketing our eyes
in seamless skies,
while holding a rope,
connecting future back to past,
believing what we foresaw
to come back,
together, betraying knowing
that we only longed
for what, we could not
keep hidden.
All hope,
falling as a petal
on a naked pair of lips,
sipping sour air,
while arms are paired
in eternity’s dare.
Modern Romanticism 