Modern Romanticism

You swore to me,
that nothing was ever
there to be severed,
when everything
had always remained
to be blamed.

Love didn't connect
the dots, the stars
as often as you wanted.

You've bled yourself
to prove to me
whatever you believed
I could not see.

I witnessed merely
the stars, while your
scars were extending
with the shadows
from another day's
trusted ending.

You hoped that I
would go, if that will
prove you to be correct.

I did not want to
be the one to revive
a pain, one that you
continue to survive.

It was always there,
leaking with your eyes
that never closed
while the day
cut itself,
with the clay.

What did you see,
when you never changed?

Where will you go,
with no heart to rearrange?

You kept yourself
wide awake, if that ever
kept yourself waiting
for me to break,
with the dawn.