Modern Romanticism

When should I say
those words, for you to stray?
You are lost even when found,
dropping tears without a sound
among the countless,
over a crystal lake.

Nothing shows your reflection,
though many were there
to hold your hand, in careful
or careless selection.

In anyone’s eyes,
you are mirrored in disguise.
You will be reminded,
never remade.

“Everlasting”
is a word you flee from,
deciding that an avenue
of darkness will be your bliss.
Nothing like a kiss
to its simplest statement,
should repeat anything.

To you, not for you,
it repeats the last,
faltering in its promise,
as you cannot distinguish
what should extinguish
your history’s fires.