Modern Romanticism

You dissolved,
finding some space
to dress yourself
in emptiness and burial.

You've faded
to lost words,
unkempt promises,
burned orchards.

I wished to not reject
your winter, your ice-cold
embittering framework.
It arrived after the fall
of a heart, one in its silence,
eclipsed in the sundering
from storms, from violence.

You were those words
trapped beneath leaves,
after you had chosen me
to be the one who grieves.

I overturned all,
seeking what might be
willing to release
a whisper of forgiveness.

Another storm arrives,
shedding white upon soil,
scattering no seeds
through twisting winds.