Modern Romanticism

Pass your torch
to the other side,
as a signal for reunion,
a sentiment, to revisit
all that came undone
after it was a knot
around our necks.

If I come crawling,
will you accept the treatment
of a heart that yearns
for another treatment
of the same love,
the same stardust?

Something has gleamed,
though we've ignored it
for fear of being hurt
when lost under each other's
meandering footprints.

Something has teemed
in its enclosure, calling us
into its space, for it isn't
like the grave that has
kept our forms enslaved.

Passing our eyes
to each other's side,
seeing reflections in crystal,
finding our simmering smiles
in puddles, created from
the warm fall of teardrops.