Modern Romanticism

I told her
through humming words,
vibrato for effect,
that I could not be her shadow.

I gave her a choice,
to release me
from being either behind,
or before me -

whichever direction
our light bled.

I pleaded to her,
upon knees made of marble,
in an ocean of sorrow,
that I cannot be this hollow.

For her,
I kneaded daytime's existence,
to be a message, in plain sight.

Without her,
shoreline shells are filled,
as peace hangs down
like a silver sword
when Heaven heard.