Modern Romanticism

I know I’ve been cruel
through saving nothing more
than a shard from a broken mirror.
I bled you to keep you warm,
while I judged your fears
to not be your comfort,

because I thought that holding you
would mean to sink into
your thoughts, where you are gathered.

I thought to understand
someone, who was hung
by one delicate strand.
One thin wire
of gold, brought from
a place that kept you higher,
in those woods,
inside familiar shadows.

I forgot that your misery
kept you going on a long line,
as I thought to keep you weeping
if it meant to keep you afloat,
but you were meaning to walk
on an ocean’s bottom.

Right here, I am a breath away,
but I won’t continue to take
your hurricane gusts away
to surrender myself,
to those undying ways.