Modern Romanticism

In seeing you go,
I’m buried in snow,
I’m hearing words
I can’t reject,
I cannot bury
deeper down.

They come up
with a whirlwind
to send
an old star
back into a void.

Cure me
or deplete me.
Deny me
or mind me.

I want nothing less
than the ticket
to be accompanied
to an undeserved
piece of Heaven.

Light has frozen
on this plane
of a conscious
misunderstanding
of existence.

Darkness is a memory
of a tomb, a womb
I must go, I came from,
believing to be loved
somewhere,
before everything else.