Modern Romanticism

Alabaster. Through all,
I devote your depiction,
bringing life to this canvas.
A mind remembers
all it can, when I've drawn
a circular frame on walls,
where even sounds
are fossilized.

I'll bleed us dry
for a connective scenery.
I'll give it an anchor
to weight it into
the ocean of a heart,
leaving its wounds open
to continue this creation.

For curves to rival this world,
this soil, where I'll bury
what I can conceal twice.
Once, in a tomb of remembrance.
Twice, in a hole of forever's
scrutinized endeavor.

Whether you will find yourself
always trapped in a body
of water, of marble flesh,
of mountains worth
of irreplaceable color,

or you'll be bound to weather
that raises what's been lost
to love's spreading flame,

I'll continue what I'm not
ever meant to complete.