Modern Romanticism

Binding it not
upon that bitter
taste of yesterday.

Burning it on,
to upkeep pleasure,
to fuel an endeavor.

I’ve envisioned
where we can be,
if we ever misstep.
We’d exit an imperfect,
scarlet circle.

The moon will guide us,
the sun will save us
in the morning,
once our paralyzing tears
turn into better years.

Your hand is to take,
your heart is to quake
among these hours
we are sacrificing
to earn an eternity.

There’s enough sand
on a glistening shoreline
to carve our trail.

There’ll be even more
inside an unbreakable
hourglass.