Modern Romanticism

Heartfelt vapor.
Turning key
in a doorway that held
everything. Although, nothing
had ever kept our signals crossing
before we sheltered,
beneath leaves, under an embrace
of fog – merely a melted curtain,
about us, blinding us
into drifting gray.

Where were we to go?

Among all those twisting roads,
our veins led us nowhere,
while shadows
bled us, everywhere.

We are belonging – to stay
inside this shielding gray.

Heartbeats, heard,
sheltered under solid earth,
with a deserted sun
surrendering us
to uncovered presence.

A morbid pair
of rediscovered eyes,
stinging through tears
and smoke –
all that we swallowed,

as once, we dwelt,
singing amidst our grief,

as here, we dwell,
encased in stones,
burning among dust,
and autumn’s leaves.

Another year, growing old,
continuing to be cold,
while following that trail
you left,

for me to sail,
for this flesh to turn pale.