Modern Romanticism

Another loosened teardrop
blending in with rain,
as I cling here, to walls,
reunited with the sadness
once more, under this haze
of distance and madness.

I have come, here,
wanting something near,
as I have framed
your face, another time
in the thinnest of borders,

hoping to both remove you
from freedom to this mind,
and to remember what
keeps blooming you.

Holes in these hands;
sacrificial, throughout
ominous, scarred lands,
contemplating death in this grasp
where oceans and rocks
are made sacred in this task,

to hold onto the memorial
of a love that stays in its infinite
time, for me to surrender.

For me to dismember –
a separation of light,
from darkness,
never granting correction
to a bittersweet memory
that identifies itself
in resurrection.