Modern Romanticism

Our emptiness,
it demands to be
filled with gravity.
We will hold weights,
gripping swollen flesh,
sometimes, the air,
as time stands still
in a surrounding aura.

I've built this place,
one that has light
to explore your face
in smoothest expression.
Ripples float through
your hair, while I rake
these fingers, between
all I must take.

Scents are sacred,
while a field brings in
seeds that are settling
on your ignited womb.

We're never scared,
even when fleeing from
all those scattered shadows,
to raise us in damp meadows.

I'll find a way
to make this eternal,
that it doesn't float past
to surrender to the grey.

I'll bring us closer,
treasuring secrets spilled,
loving always at midnight
when voids are filled.