Modern Romanticism

A lesson no one learns
until rubble become one’s
sole decoration.

It hurts to crumble,
to tame the step
we both fell onto.

Not either of us
came ahead,
but I came close
to surrender you
to starvation.

No one wants this.
to admit the wrongs
that began
with a smile,
a kiss.

It feels foreign
to burn, to grieve
over what once
gave reprieve.

We must be drenched
from a cold awakening
into clear consciousness.

We must be quenched
from this decision,
this revision.