Modern Romanticism

Another dream
flickers, though it doesn’t
flick back on the light,
when haze is all
to be received, among this
diluted night.

I wrap around
thorns, to keep me company.
I have worded recalled promises
upon fallen snow,
awakening to moonlight,
withdrawing immaculacy
to never show.

All I wanted,
without senseless comparison
was a hand upon a feeble heart,
to let go of never knowing
when love would stop glowing.

All I was granted
is the disappointment of spending
blood, for the flood
of fever, that trickled
for the burnout.

A night of remembering
your face, being traced
inside hardening thoughts,
never disbelieving
in that kind step towards cruelty.

You kept me locked,
without being shocked
when I could see
what was predicted to be
your presence, thrown away.