Modern Romanticism

You reflected
for a better chance,
to be the one to decide
where light can hide.

You remembered
what no one knew
about what you were,
within the dark.

You thrived to escape,
seeking solace
among fading structure,
to teem in isolation.

A waste of eternity
is what you lived on,
for a single second.

It’s this ephemeral,
evanescent outpour
of your glamor.

It sank into the sea,
for just you to receive
all you can bring
closer to the edge.

When pain bandages
your invisible wounds,
will there ever come a time
when you have depleted
all that you can hide,
in this cause to survive?