Modern Romanticism

I swear, I’ve seen
someone else, standing
far from me.
You are running
with water, with mire
flooding for your gates
to open, to keep you going
to that setting sun
that puts you to sleep.

Once, I loved
a careless coverage
of infinite shadows,
while all I came to see
is what brought me
to my knees, without mercy.

I brought kisses
to those overturned hands,
loosening stones, losing tears,
knowing none could float.

I feel an urge
to smother a pair
of hushed lips,
to lose myself in that stir.

I give to a fire
the best to be, pressing me
with a future of wardens.
Imprisoned, in being
a worm, beneath
everyone’s footstep,
cursed under
everyone’s breath.