Modern Romanticism

I recall
as I realize
that what I lost,
during that fall,
was more to receive
when it awakened me
to why I’ve ever breathed,
why I’ve ever seen
what something means.

You were there
to see the Hell
I began to burn in,
for when I lost light,
I added blood
to build up the flame,
after adding tears
that weren’t enough
to extinguish this
relentless shame.

I am reminiscent,
always leaning on
these roses
for their thorns,
having something
to keep me torn
from the past
to more of future’s
nonstop consequence.

I want what reviles me,
what defiles me
to let me feel
what keeps this heart
always sealed.

I will never open it,
allowing someone else
to enters the pages
of a history
that can’t be changed.