Modern Romanticism

Short leash, held onto
your state of departure
from the truth of you.
I’ve been viewing
your limitless grains,
on an extended shore
where depth is worth
more than ever
to explore.

You’ve been fleeing
deadly comparisons,
depriving yourself
of what it takes
to truly break.

To become one
who is beautiful,
there must be pages
turned into becoming
buried history.

To be someone
whose future is believed,
requires you to grieve
over what’s present,
as a gift for your footsteps.

Let tears come as waves,
running as silk over your
embedded thorns,
raising the swell,
until you begin to stand
from where you fell.

A flower must die
from its faded colors,
to be reborn as one
that has radiance,
that regained symmetry
upon bright petals.