Modern Romanticism

Afterall,
the ending
didn’t come
like what we
expected.

Devising our symmetry
to outlast distortion,
feeling how we
trembled in light
of moving foundations.

Our love died,
mixed in with starlight.
An empire,
constricted to lose
its breath.

Up to death,
we fell apart in our
listed sequences,
revising nothing while we
broke everything.

Tragic consequence
from a time
inhaling the smoke,
from a burning shelter.

Our tears
won’t put out
such flames.

They’ll be the flood
that guides our bodies
in the undertow.