All times, we co-exist,
faltering before doorways,
wary to our shadows
ceasing to exit,
surrendering to be stilled,
upon knees.
Faint. With pleas,
with arrogance to what
we will never please.
Hand-held. Fingertips frozen
on skin’s burning edge.
I heat up, to our
ocean of surroundings,
pulling you close –
close, to this disappearing light,
kissing a smeared smile,
as we blend into mirrors –
reflections, of something we
carelessly disbelieved.
Surrender.
To always, remember
that these limbs
will be dismembered,
like a mother’s embrace,
coming loose –
a repeated reimagining
of birth, into death.
A cold release, with vapor –
in our unfiltered lungs,
draining black, in our words,
forming a long sheet
to conceal us, among nighttime’s
continued lack of hues.
Modern Romanticism 