Modern Romanticism

To fall, within
a nestling – a sense,
of touch, of much
to unwind, from words
that are spilled from the passion
of closed eyes.

Are you here to kiss me,
after how long you’ve missed me?
Were your tears running along
those lines we were racing,
though we were losing?

Unravel your final word
to me, for me, before you leave me
with another shadow
dancing to the reverb of a heart.

I don’t need this.
Another deception.
Another senseless kiss.

I said farewell to the turmoil
that steered our love into storms.
I made peace with the death
of sentiments contained in sweet breath.

To that reflection of mine,
or to us, entwined,
a blush nor your laughter
won’t reconnect me,
thereafter.