Modern Romanticism

You’re always enveloped,
denying grace, resisting space,
clinging to shadows,
those that void you,
those you crawl up to.

There’s nothing
for me to expose,
when it is your wounds
unstitched, undressed
on your velvet skin.

I am leaving you a kiss,
watching your breath
on its way out,
on your way out
the unfortified door.

You’ve sheltered yourself
in a knot, in a twist,
buried under blue skies
you deliberately miss.

Can you find yourself
within your ruin,
in the running blood,
the broken bones?

Sadness speaks again,
deciding every note,
when you carry on
that wailing throat.