Modern Romanticism

You knew better
than to wander back
to those marks,
as I knew better
than to keep you
turning back, than to
keep rewinding back
our cruel history.

I left openings in a road –
graves for many miles.
I deserted beauty
to be answered by another,
while I drifted
into space, outside of our
winterly yearnings.

I knew better
than to keep us walking,
as we knew better
than to keep our hearts
always talking.

We didn’t know better,
when we were dreaming
inside open arms,
shedding our tears
without direction
for their fall.