Modern Romanticism

She brought her sunlight inside. I could see it, as I wasn’t blinded. I wasn’t hiding from it, because it lifted a merry smile upon my lips.

What were any words to say? To this, I can only watch. A flood of bliss departs from my heart in this swelling yearning to fully explore her, down to those grains that are hugging her toes. An engulfing light, with an infinite ocean beyond her skin to sail upon. Her presence gives me an anchor to stay. Her gleam, her hues are enough to starve myself, at time’s limited place.

She displays an empire to merge me, and I am willing. I am here, keeping to what I know. I am keeping to who I know.

Steps are heard, but sounds move farther. A faltering to my view. I am seeing myself walking back, though I wasn’t hiding at first. I am retreating to what I cannot recognize. I am moving away from what’s gone, or from what’s a mere symptom of grief never healed. There is me, taking backwards steps from a mirror.

There is me, once seeing someone I left behind. Here is me, wondering who I can become without a teardrop to find my own reflection.

She tosses a kiss. Dodged, like a bullet, in the shadows, in the dark. I am retreating too slow, but enough. I am moving to grow, but is it enough?