Modern Romanticism

It was never
the first option in
this bland universe.
I had just wanted
to love, only love,
not to replace lights
burned out
above her head.

A halo, I needed to
bring to life, bring back
to its resplendence.

To her, an angel
I'll keep from all demons,
even me, especially me.

I cannot hope to cry
for another heart,
another tearstained rag
in weathered hands.

Love tore me open
to those sounds,
emitted from her throat.
Love cleaned wounds,
though left scars
as countless as stars.

I just wanted her to breathe.

I just wanted her to see
that such a weight needn't be
what she needs to
drag to another sunset.

If she could ever
raise her gentle head,
she would have seen
it was instead a sunrise.