Modern Romanticism

Swirls uplift
the parts to describe,
once you’re undressed
to see the wounds
you’ve cried over,
leaving half your nights
embedded in coldness.

I see in your skin
those old reflections,
shattered under
the weight of indecision.

Help yourself
to a different feast,
letting yourself
come down to where I
have made enough
for us both.

Your scars are ample,
while stars are infinite.
To see the setting sun,
you can always come by
without wanting to run,
while you can hope to
be one who can fly.

Love is no disgrace,
when it catches you
when you’ve lost grace,
when you can rebuild
your stance from an aura,
from the light
you’ve left behind.

Signal it, recharge it,
revive the passions
that you know
won’t cure you,
but they will
renew you.