Modern Romanticism

Even though
there is evidence, to show
there is a crude aftermath
to all this diligence,
we still come around,
like rocks that dream to float.

I lured our eyes here,
tempting us, in these hallways
where memories might have
turned this around,

might have changed
the darkness, where clarity
could not be arranged.

Hauntings are clinging
onto arms, kissing our foreheads
like a scalding fever,
reminding us
that we are facing the sun,
despite the moonlit
droplets, roaring down
our uncovered faces.

We are still loving,
even in different spaces.
We have lost,
while we still yearn to gain
our signals backs,
even in the falling rain.