Modern Romanticism

Long-lost steps,
backtracked to that place
of empty safety.
You are careful
to not walk on glass,
if that means to dodge
your brittle reflection.

Do you see me?
I am those shadows
you’ve gone blind to,
while swimming
in that light,
from open doors.

You’ve retreated,
while you’ve depleted
your rotten stale-mate
of tears to weep.

You’ve abandoned
what we’ve kept forward,
reusing your song
of muted harmonies.