Modern Romanticism

Soon, am I
soon seeing you?
You are not tangible,
as you are not even close
to that once great piece
of natural architecture.

I kiss a ghost,
ruining tears at their fall,
wasting seconds,
when I could be
answering another’s call.

I am grieving – knowing
flesh cannot be a wall
against time, though death
will be an eternal fixation,
letting heated blood flow
in my branching veins.

I am listening to what I know
has left its space, but has
kept me encased in a spiderweb
of thorny lies,

because I have lost
everything I can only imagine
is everything for the earth,
everything for darkness’s worth.