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Pain follows its footstep,under where we criedwith blue in its dimmest hue,wired in this shelterwhere storms never pass,deserving usborn upon another,bleeding where weare distantly smothered. Thunder fadesto come, again, as weare each crack in a treethat grows if only to showwhat it did not know. We are those flamesthat conceal ourbrittle wounds. Nothing tolive for,
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Feelings often cross.Often, we become deranged,drunk on something we namea feeling this strange.Emotions get tossed, overcliffs, towards bottomless streams.We endeavor to create them –to succumb to weatherfrom our eyes, our skies,our thoughts, together. If you want to wait,we will become engraved,together, on a stonewhere our hearts held theirplace, to atone.We will find our crippled feetwalking
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See me. See safety.See these wings thatnever will give forth less,when presenting a caressupon your longest hurt.You bend forth,sifting ash, where memorieswere scattered fromdiscarded photographs. Are you afraid of storms,when always welcoming them?Something thundersinside your deepest arms.Teardrops fall, towards lakesalways bare for yourfrozen, trembling body. Will you come backto see what never died,as all it
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Something had toldme, to never pushyou against your scars,against those cliffs,where you keep yourselfseated, while weepingwaterfalls in a drought. I never told myselfto not force you to bleed.I kept you open,hoping that I would closewith darkness overthese eyes that burn. Delusional. Inside asentence, that promisessome other pagein a book with vast hopes,with long tunnelstowards another
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If all, might have beenafter that emptiness,of mourning. If two eyeshad seen, that sapphire,those dimming skies, becomingbright, in an aftermathfor one pleasant morning.If one heart, had feltits bathing veins, in a puddle,to drench itself, in whatour fears, never muddled. I have locked, onto you.Missiles, cruising over blanketingseas. I still live, in these currents,as I hold,
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I count you,leaving as dust,smoldering over, in red,upon lips, decoratedwith rust. I am shelteredin surrounding fog.Blanketing memories, everkeeping me nearto surrender. When Ipray to those clouds,I still find everything thereto be collected inshivering hands. Those moments I come outto see a sun being liftedfrom somewhere distant,I begin to feel an ocean,before my dive,I feel where
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Tongue-tied. We were oncebound by truth.Held down with rings,within no fairytale. We roared with those firesthat fell to our eyes. Blinded,under surges, with urges,inside summer’s sting. Starved flesh, made to bringblackest guilt, uponimmaculate shoulders. While you areletting go, pale skin nolonger looks sick,to you. Once, blinded,in light, in dark, beingreminded of somethingwe both forgot.When you
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Piles ofshelter, your limbs,your creases,within releases,while life depletesin this mirror. Fell your tears,walking north. Kissthis sadness, into blue,aching in starvation.Your resignationto die, before a river,as you will letrapids come close,after flesh opens. Wait for nightto designateour time-zones tobe similar, to befamiliar. Where haveall our oceans left? Pressure me, while youlive to misunderstand me.Do not ever
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Whatever hiding spot. Meethere. We wander on hot pebbles,living inside fissures. These roads, where all oursuns come down. Those valleyswhere all our growthfell low. We copy our youthbackwards, on a long walkback to yearning. Each inescapable sunrise,all daylight we shun,while words can run onas prayers for a grave. Late to beattacked for belief.We are closed
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Ignite. Bright lightcarries debris past thispast. One awakeningsun can tear our shelterdown, these walls toshake under a range offorgotten emotions. You live near me.You age, while decayingnext to me. You wereburied with another heart,that stopped moving.When we touch,explore a world thatcarries no crutch. One last letterburned into a letter,detailing our history. One more teardropto describe
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Fable this. Tell thisupon telltale symptoms – you connect, among thisvirus, called love, calledanother symptom outfrom someplace deep,from somewhereunconcealed. You are this stain;rain upon a crudeshelter, while nothingmoves. Each wordburied at their thirddegree. Each smile,all frowns, takento graves, into walls,burned into dust. To dust, coating your eyes.To rust that stains yourfingers. To love that neverfades
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Say your sadness. You havealways been burned intoscreaming your madness. Youhave always longed fora watering touch, from onepair of approaching eyes. You have burned for enough,falling apart, long enough. A bed for you. Rest for youto never count what hasbeen left. What stays, insidea closed shell, on your soul,on your eyes – a building’sinferno. You
Modern Romanticism 