Modern Romanticism

Open to the fog
encoring our curse.
We’ve blanketed
a surviving storm
with our smoke
from our aftermath.

Blind to vast destruction,
dreaming of our steps
beyond black decay.

White mist
we devote to hope,
upon a savior’s kiss.

Blank pages
to rewrite our history.
Denial’s chime
holding out a torch
to light up a pathway
with virgin snow.

Our love,
birthed to be reversed
after all our lessons
we failed to learn.

Life merits a world
we’ve yet to describe
for its beauty.

Truth has vision,
constructed from pieces
of a broken heart.

We’re too desperate
to piece profound sadness
to save a ruined vessel
dying to sink.