Modern Romanticism

It was always you,
forcing yourself back in,
seeing me sink
in this mind,
as I begin to think
about those words.

I had said it,
that I loved the one
who will eventually
remain the one,
for what that is,
locked in shadow.

Passions divide,
expressions are wide
in these open lanes
where I am lost,
while also found.

It is a pain,
one that I, for a time,
will not demand
its departure.

For an age,
I won't want healing
when it is the same
as the one, who I
brought into a heart
for its sealing.

For this page,
I won't want anything
other than these
unmatched feelings,
carving reality
from a thorn.