Modern Romanticism

Draw in that company.
Decide on what to convey
when contours remain
to design that shape,
caught in the blue,
out of the blue
of an ocean’s vastness,
of a soul’s depth.

I wish for what must
always commit to that lust
beneath sheets, an angel’s wings.
Will guilt be freed
when we are both high
in temptation’s lead?

I’ve captured our story
in pages, boundless and discrete,
emptied of all that brings
to our lips, a poison
that reignites what stings.

In the pure, in the white
of no more tragedy
within our once-weathered sight.
Love can bloom, with garments
adorning this room.

Two faces reflected
in a puddle, selected
for its place at our feet,
that we might bring in
that which quenches us,
being buried within.