Modern Romanticism

Blinded reception,
betraying our vow
to a sunrise
highlighting what tears
we let fall from eyes
we let watch.

We are descending
in the instinct to flee,
leading senselessness
into clarity.

Our home is burning
for ashes, to be collected
in our unclean palms.

The laughter we emit
disguises our tragedy
in the making.

Once, we were lost
in its welcomed state,
believing it best
to be imprisoned
in hearts that were,
at that time,
not made of stone.

We bleed, but we cannot
feel what we need,
outside of this clash
of two different worlds.

An action to surrender
will continue our lesson
to always remember
that love stretches beyond
when silence falls
upon a devoted heart.