Modern Romanticism

Forceful ignition
stirred one side of this universe,
flaring everything in red -
as red as what's dead
of words, on her lips.

Having turned this key
to spark life into eternity.
I stepped into a puddle,
carving ripples into constancy
pledging to what floats on,
in brittle symmetry.

Having consumed a remedy
of light for an encircled mass,

as I am holding onto rope
bound around a broken neck.

I am holding a piece of a puzzle,
choosing to engrain these grains
that pour through a fractured,
stained hourglass.

I am holding close this time
these fragments of a sheltered crime,

as hands are burned in burgundy
when bodies shared imagery.