Modern Romanticism

I've always left
residue whenever I have ever
followed you, to another room.
You are in those shadows,
reforming yourself
in sacred corners,

as I am always a ghost
to freeze a breath
that you never abandon.

Your tears come through
a face that shelters itself,
under damp ceilings.

Water damage, to you,
means nothing when you
keep blessing those ruins.

What you do
to keep me buried,
is keeping me alive,

thriving on a pain
that renews your thirst,
even under driving rain.