Modern Romanticism

Living in reverse,
rewriting our love
in careless verse,
denying all that died
in between sacred seconds
we were able to cry.

I want us to crawl
back to that hole
all our shadows
ever put us.

Even if all we do
is lie to the sun,
become blind to light,
perhaps the darkness,
just the darkness
understands us.

Even while we evaporate
our breaths, into cold space,
daydream under the moon,
making wishes
in the blackness of a womb,
we might recognize
where we can return to.

We'll grasp each other,
hand within hand,
flesh against flesh,
not viewing another
while dust surrounds,
in all we smother.

We are two ghosts
who have died
for the love we endured
more than life.