Modern Romanticism

At a price,
for a reward,
disbelief has remained
your flavor of rain
to swallow.

If it helps you,
you could hold back
your hands
from going back
to that day.

Your sessions
in fleeing to the past
positions torment
towards a bitter end.

Your smiles
have been undeserved,
leveraging your fortune,
justifying a story.

On a road,
treading water,
desperate to not drown
under your comfort,
while it still pulls
your reflection under.

On a river,
as black as the ice
you don’t see
is covering your soul
from the snow
for fresh tracks.