Modern Romanticism

Give life to it,
with leaking drops
falling from unified,
verified storms.

Hopes have grace,
just as we’re showing
an empire of sounds,
as the cries
pushed through
the cracks
between fingers.

It was once
when we kissed
under moonless,
exposed skies.

That was once
when we were not
prone to hide,
falling to slide.

Give life back to it,
during a time
with space devoted
to our sensations.

Sadness smiles
when it has nothing
but its emptiness
to decorate.

White walls
are gifted with it,
the thunder of hearts,
beating because of
breath from light,
light during the night.