Modern Romanticism

Advancing towards
darkness and dust,
letting shadows become
all that I know
in the arms of one
who carries a burden,
in her floating heart.

Walls are surrounding
where I've nested.
A fortress sparks growth,
being not what I know.

She looks on, seeing
nothing more than a child.
Snows have fallen,
with silence as a lullaby.

See me, withholding
stones I could put forth,
for graceful steps
to sink into the aftermath
of one heart, that never
wished for its bruises.

Doors let in gusts,
windows invite a flame
from a sun that yields
to what shadows
it did not create.