Modern Romanticism

I let through
all that could ever
come into
this bottomless,
soundless nature.
For I am
nothing for it,
weeping while I
clutch onto tangles.

You were there,
finding me, all the way
where promises
were as heavy
as our storms.

I wanted
to keep things
just the way
they were meant to
keep fueling
strength, to our
soaring pathway.

I wanted our lips
to collide, like thunder,
while we travel
to the ends
of this cursed earth.

We were meant to,
or so I thought,
find each other
deep in the flames,
deep under oceans,
calling out
from breathless lungs.

We were not meant to
sacrifice another thought
to what hurts us.

We were always thinking
of our music, of despair,
of unending hopelessness,
of our hearts in disrepair.

Nothing but the end
brought us around
to see where we began,
clutching those tangles,
our heartstrings,
as we started to swim
past one another
in an ocean of reverie.