Poem – “Just a Kiss will do” – Romanticism – 12/3/2020

Under these heavy curtains
Of doubt,
There bleeds something beautiful,
The nuptiality that can recreate
The truths in myself.
My sickened soul,

That once sung aloud
All the harmonies of love
In the dangers we visited.

My soul now twists,
Writhes,
In uncertainty,
In perplexity.

Living through you,
In the deepness,
In the mire of you,
Under the clouds of you,
For believing in you
Has become a pain.

Just a kiss will do
To settle the unceasing sickness
Of unfeeling.
Just a kiss from you
Rested upon my rotting lips,
Will stir me,
Will birth me
Brand new
In your arms.

Poem – “For You” – Romanticism – 12/2/2020

For you,
I would gladly burst myself
To share an ocean
Of depleted roses

To match
The emptiness in you.
To you,
I would stretch
Scarred arms,
Bleeding palms,

To sing songs of sickness
Out of you.

For you,
I would smile twice
In the same moment.
Next to you,
I would love with two hearts
To fulfill your own,
Defeated upon the earth.

Out of you
I would scrape the despair,
For places we do dare
To deny for ourselves,
We go there.

We go where Spring leeches colors
Out of Autumn’s remnants.

Becoming seated
Upon a park bench,
Beneath descending petals,
Beneath the frozen moon,

Among the hazy sun.

We can sway
In place, nervous to touch
The other,
Without falling for the burn,
The churn
Of stomachs that flutter
More than hearts.

Loving beauty
With much to match
For fulfillment’s sake,
Let us drink of our kisses,
Sleep in the wilderness
Where nothing more precious
May be of us,
Than us,
For you.

Poem – “Remind Me of the Pain” – Romanticism – 12/2/2020

Remind me of rushing waves
Sentenced like the criminal
To his Hell, down your cheeks.
Might I swim
At my own whim?

Remind me of barrels of poison,
Toxins for the drunkard.

Hold your hand to the storm,
Catching silver rain,
Mourning with stains.

Sing praise,
For why not
See the sun, when it glimpses you
In the rising ashes of dead stars?

You are broken,
Along with our world.
Just amusement from ignorance,
With disappointment from knowledge.

Lay your head back,
Let me kiss
The rain from your eyes,
While sweet scents of Spring
Shed solace upon your heart.

You collapse with arms wide open
To embrace the Heavens,
Away from me.

Poem – “I Lose you, in the Light” – Romanticism – 12/2/2020

Loving beneath
Your stars,
Counting raindrops,
Reminiscing
Over scars
That hold innumerable
Pages,
History never complex.

For I could read
What is born from you,
Losing teardrops,
As the puling infant.

Upon a fragile night,
With moon to storm a fever
Above me,
Pieces of you, came to me.

Taking memories
From your heart,
Folding pages in my sleeves
Of a timeworn shirt.
Lifting a veil
Will never come again,
To see the sun
Without blinking.

Beautiful,
With a halo of stars,
Loving galaxies
All depart.

My sun,
Your universe
Never met in the ash
With lightyears across.

Poem – “How I Chase, to Avoid” – Romanticism – 12/2/2020

Breathing
Each grace,
Stumbling over
Your expressionless
Face.
Bleeding and kneeling
Beneath the sun,
In the path of your startled
Gaze.

I move,
Running
Towards your world,
Apart from mine,
In the green oceans,
With the blue lands.

I lift
Boulder after boulder
From you,
While you were trapped
Under pebbles, so heavy,

Inside a coffin, so light.

I rain
Teardrops to you,
Singing grief
Under this blank curtain.

Can a glimpse of some other love
Touch you, to rise?
Can light be that which departs
The black from the white?

Stains of pure oceans,
Of sadness that will not give
Away its message,
Unless for earth to cross it out.

Poem – “Kisses to make you Breathe” – Romanticism – 11/30/2020

Delicate
As virgin snow,
As buds

To bloom frozen waters
From discolored veins.
You have of your eyes
Unseen history,
To place in trusted hands.

Living under silent boughs,
Losing waters
From storms, in your
Closed stare.

I offer the kiss
To make you breathe
With the come of Spring.

Too many offerings
Have been made
To your church,
As you never flourished your secrets
For sorrows to enter tomorrow.

A grand steeple
Raised to make your neck,
A precipice, that is your head
With lips for a burial.

I offer no sadness,
Continued or rebirthed
In your arms
Like to carry buckets
Full of your tears.

I offer love
Fresh upon a stem,
Stretched for a kiss
To make you matter,
To give you breath.

You are not for desertion’s flight,
With wings that spread decay.
You are here to stay
To find that the future might

Give you a way.

Poem – “Monsters are Sensitive” – Romanticism – 11/30/2020

Looser than decay,
My limbs do stray
To the curtain of you,
Draped with delicacy.
There can be no more moons
Left for my howls.

Can they hear my cries?
The winds carry them,
Just as they lash my back.

I never knew but a broken-off
Petal,
Could follow my trail.

I am here to condone you,
The subtlest shift in the wind
To carve the sands,
Aimed for my direction,
While the beast I never knew
Joins me in dedication.

Love sighs
As the gusts through stems
Of roses before a grave.
I will depart
With a leaf in your hands,
Taken from Autumnal tree,
Blessed with ivory’s curse,
The moon to be
The torment of me,
From the curtain of you.

Poem – “To Drown, in your Place” – Romanticism – 11/29/2020

How I hold your hands
Close to my lips,
Feverish, they are
By the sudden storm
Above your head.
How the waves touch
Your barren skin,
How the ripples never die
To the calmest stillness.

Loving
With wires left to untangle
Of your matted hair,
Where my eyes, buried in tears
Bleed, for all to be aware.

Your eyes
Form the oceans
For my collapse,
A silence never stays
Enough for me to pray.

To drown,
To crown
Myself, the fallen King,
Yourself, the risen Queen,

Pulls oceans apart
For your passing.

What a sickness
Upon you!
What a love
I call the doves to,
That you might wash ashore
To hold hands with the sand,
Speaking of happiness
Where you clean yourself.

Poem – “It’s not Her Fault” – Romanticism – 11/29/2020

It is not your fault
The ruins around me
Resulted from my own hands.

Blood has been spilled
To temper these walls.
My own.

Structures still so resilient,
By the outlying current.
Sadness recedes

Me, back to where I
Say I can deny

All the love I cannot feel.

Upon your eyes
A certain coldness resides,
That I cannot seem to hide
From bleakest reality.

For you burn through me
The words,
That I despise myself,
That I shatter these arms,
These legs,
With my silence.

Upon your form,
Of flesh melting in the sun,
I allow denial to my hurts,
For you.

My pain never mattered,
Yet I cannot release
You, to the wind.

Poem – “Born so Beautiful” – Romanticism – 11/28/2020

Sprout thee,
Delicate majesty.
Your face is sculpted for me
To see.

The storm you wash me
In bedeviled tranquility,

Has me wander,
Has me breathe

The whisking fantasies
Beneath moonlit ecstasies.

Can this love be pure,
Upon your frail form?

Can you see the tides we create
On winter’s life, swept?
Like white curtains atop
Your barren, black eyes,
A bleak sunset
Shrouded by frost.

I have come to take you aside,
Hold you, in the afterlife,
Breathe you, in the cruelest strife,
Fold you about my arms,

Loving you, where Autumn walks,
Living you, where beauty defeats
Me, to my knees
That I might be a child, once more.

Kissing you
Under the rain,
Cures my pain,
Washes stains.

Poem – “My Tears come as Pearls” – Romanticism – 11/28/2020

To you,
For you,
Can you wear the rain?
My love,
Petal yourself
In these stains.
My heart cloaks itself
In the cold,
Wearing a shroud of dark
Delicate and old.

I want to come to kiss
Those very pearls about your neck.
Your life
Is marked by the fallen droplets
From the withered rose,
That I am.

You are all
To the nothing I am.
I am just a man
With dust between his fingers.
Yet, you are
Love atop a waterfall.

My tears come as pearls,
Staining your cheeks,
Soaking your tongue,
Lasting as vapors over your chin.

Poem – “Wet Scars” – Romanticism – 11/27/2020

Finding fault
Where ruin lies
In the wakeful rain,

Where blue sheds with blue,
As storms reside above the mist,
While life hangs a curtain

Before the dreadful hour.

Two weeks close endless chapters,
Laden in everlasting warmth.

But, to touch would mean to fear,
If not to die.

I live on the wires
Of imagined contact,
Beyond the waves

To pierce the haze.

My love lies, torn,
Upon her empty eyes.
Does she waltz,
Or does she slumber?

Bleeding lives
Create burning oceans,
Scarlet in the sadness,
Desperate in the madness.

She holds a noose, tight,
With solace breathed
Through a nose,
Soon to collapse.

As water enters water,
While oil burns atop the sea,
I can hold, as I plea
For her return
To me.