Modern Romanticism

Loose tears, last words
running on with those gusts
from inseminating thunderstorms.

What grows from death,
but another breath?
Another seed to birth alive
a simple newness,

added with a pair of eyes,
delighting in
unachieved findings.

She spells her retreat
as an oriental signature.
A needless filigree,
draped in knots and folds.
All I can confirm
within her state,
is to that rush
from a cold fate,

as I led her to be reminded
of what’s forever undecided.

Back of her mind,
with penetrative history.
Memories roll her eyes
to see euphoria,
among flashing skies.

She’ll drive her loneliness
through escape, in her state.

She’ll remember those parts
I’ve dismembered.
She’ll come back to play
that role she betrayed,
though I’ll hold no sympathy
for her broken symmetry.