Modern Romanticism

Hoping our burn
feels better than our cold.
Had it been caused
under the same degree,
the same frigidness
that warmed our hands?

Are you feeling this,
after being brought close?
I've loved more than
I will live for,
behind closed doors,
building bridges
I soon bring down.

Life will run
that extra mile
love had drawn
on an outdated map.
Trace me your scars,
your uncovered scenery
on flaming earth.

We are being engulfed
in truths, no doubts,
when all we can see
is our ruinous remedy.

I want to know what
comes after, when we
no longer live to please
our overdue ending.