Modern Romanticism

At the moment
when we lifted, I felt,
I knelt in what we spilt,
after our eyes were filled
in the remains
of melted snow.

Just a touch
to burn away
what would have
turned into decay.
Now, just an inch away
I can hold onto
a heartbeat
I will not let go astray.

Running into each other’s
closing arms. Hearing
our breaths from a mouth
that will speak, forever,
of what we cannot ever sever.

I cannot, in this knot
lose hold of what I brought,
inside this gaping heart.
Once, I thought
that life was meant
to keep writhing in dissent,
to keep attached to
moments going in reverse,
but we are
countless as the stars,

limitless with the sparks
that are falling from our eyes,
matching the place
of joyous tears, of famous cries.