Modern Romanticism

Moderation in all things,
including us.
We had no barriers,
during our merge,
into sweet flavor.

Our eyes relocate
bitter sensibility.
It wasn’t denied.
Even worse,
it was refuted.

Tragedy’s tears
force a direction,
in their flow.

Come each other’s
different reflection,
we will drink.

A lake is an ocean,
a storm is an apocalypse
until we know why
we had to cry.