I came to believe
that heartaches were wanderers,
that teardrops were storms
meant to scatter.
I’ve found
that you’ve come here
to remind me.
You’ve come
with bitterness
to your bite,
with soundlessness
to your heart,
while with a mute pair of lips,
you’ll want for everything
that heartbeats had skipped.
You’ll face that fire,
bringing your veins to a boil,
hearing what little
another offering of words
had promised for you,
while under my wings,
you’ll burn, you’ll crave
to forget what you ignore,
while we are wandering through
with heartache to every smile,
with suns setting,
all the while.
To be buried, safely in your scars,
while coming up, to see
another’s fate that will be believed
as an emptiness, to be achieved.
Modern Romanticism 