Modern Romanticism

I’ve ended it,
turned flowers into
a grim shade of dust,
turned your kisses
from red to rust.

You asked for it,
the pale words,
surrendering me
to abandoned,
unanswerable
questions.

An ivory understanding
became an ebony
display of overwatering.
It was the sadness
being all that’s left,
for I was left
to raise up the earth
into fragile rebirth.

I was left here
to reforge my light
from reused colors.
All I'm abandoned
to care for, will live
under the gray,
with morbid clouds
coming this way.

Once, we wanted
what everyone else
took for granted.
We bent our shapeless,
distorted reflections
into a rose.

Still, nothing
was symmetrical,
causing to bleed
on the thorns,
weeping until we
numbed our hearts.

Now there’s a chance
to find our path
to come back
to our tiny bubble,
our reinforced
fortress of indecision.