Modern Romanticism

Warming eyes
have examined me.
You’ve seen everything
I couldn’t believe,
when drowned beneath
drenching sunlight.

For wounds to be
revealed when they bleed,
I have been open,
after being opened.

It wasn’t enough
to know what to do.

There wasn’t much
for me to commit to.

But you see what I don’t,
dressed in your immaculate,
snow-covered bandages.

You’ve been to the bottom,
 when you explored
what few people find.

You’ve come up,
while I’ve sunk lower.
I know I’ll not
listen to a voice,
no matter how loud,
no matter the words
it chooses,
during its command.

I’ll break what’s left,
bending no knee
to the truth.