Modern Romanticism

Desert me,
leave me to thirst,
sitting on these lines
drawn to separate
the crime from the time
I will serve, to signify
a knot I cannot unbind.

I abducted a disaster
to set it free into its peace,
but where did it leave me?
I am one of those stepping stones,
someone else has crossed,
or a crossed-out letter
to bring a pen forward.

Betray me,
leave me in your dust
that blows free
for fields that have won –
have won your trust.

Close me
like an unfinished book,
marked with your ignorance.
You’ll never guess
how it could have ended.

You’ll remain to design labels,
ones that won’t be read,
being cancelled among the dead.