Modern Romanticism

I am choosing between
stepping stones, landing zones,
hoping to fall somewhere,
in between.

As I am losing to
this heart that’s sunken beneath,
you strive for that smile to
see me rise upon two feet.

Love comes in different forms,
it is said, though I am struggling
to refrain from remembering
when I kissed a pair of lips
that bled me in circles.

Life dominates in tragedy
and scorn, while I stick to this malady.
I am wandering without a curve
to this mouth that carves out words,
with a hollowed out body.

You strive to weep for me,
as I am crushed, beneath,
losing all I ever had, between
sweetness in tears, unseen.