Modern Romanticism

I've already been
designing these oceans
out of a dying heart,
facing dust, falling apart
to create those grains
of an endless shore.

When will I know
when you have seen
the last part of me
to be unseen?

When will you come,
realizing that there is
little left to collect,
nothing to resurrect?

I am extinguished,
being a cloud of vapor
from a pair of lungs.

Are you anguished,
knowing I stayed back
to count a final heartbeat?

There is a full world
on its path, going forward,
far from where I am,
as a ghost, as a presence
with darkness as shelter.

There was much
that you misunderstood,
letting fallen leaves
guide your feet,
bring you into ease.