Modern Romanticism

I keep in touch
with your promise,
one you've rehearsed
without deprivation
of one heart's blood.

You've been keeping
all that you are, hidden,
until the eventual time
when you will be hoping
without even considering
what is left of me.

You've leeched me,
while I've remained here
painting color into a void,
one that echoes a song,
repeated in memory.

Find me, on your voyage,
carrying stones you've left
for me to count,
until I've counted to infinity.

What am I, under these
wandering eyes?
I have sought after shadows,
as everything drags away.

I have heard your footsteps,
following your light, away.