Modern Romanticism

Elaborate your life, apart
from the interior.
I have heard those echoes,
those fears or those memories
of tomorrow.

Was it ever yesterday?

Was it when we were all
hoping to receive you,
to relight your eyes,
to erase your cries?

A light that retaliates
against your vulnerable,
venerable self.
Just a noble pursuit
of nothingness,
flinging your steps forward,
repeating the emptiness.

You anticipate,
while you commemorate
your future, bonded
to a darkness that’s resolved
to afflict you.

I can do nothing
but reflect you.
What you see, in me,
is a frozen mirage,
an illusion of what
you could be.