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Wait in line, rust was a hundred timesthe potency to cripple our hearts on time. Under Heaven’s rain, sending a sad signalto a barren lighthouse that remained, without. Hands were shared, hearts were full,round with the waters at all sides. We kissed with ravens giving notice,losing tomorrow.Will the sun surrenderwhen the ocean reenters? Offer life…
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Wait, while the world enters sleep.We will fall, we will countdrops of iron written deepin the flesh of signature’s devotion,beside earthly murmuring motion. Walk this way,find yourself layingwithin the tangled thread. We have wanted pain to close,asked for another dose,as infants repeating first wordswaiting for the world to crawlto a second closest to night. We…
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Withdraw your eyesfrom embrace and trace.Waking to the stillnessof a one, frozen in mouthupon a sigh,stiff in fingersupon the crywhile the grasp was coming dry. A pull-back, a fallen curveTo your bodythat landed my collision,while worth was never served. Winter reversed itself,for Autumn to decorate our feetin summer’s decaying petals. Losing each tear, facing every…
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All wait, with the moonto find its decline beneath the rain.Each room reenters its gloomwithout the petals about her feet,with love to vanishfrom a heart burning among the gold,vacant within streams, forcing their fold. A clash, while she blankets these eyesin gray clouds where horizons cry.From the endto the musical soar – with hands to…
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Still-rain, wiping your drivefrom the eastern route.Enter mourning with the tearsfrozen on an encased face,falling expressionless. Count you, follow afterthe needle can thread a woundtogether, in the night,after everything received sight.In love, within you.Bleeding to a distant current,abstracting you. What keeps the sunlightbeyond the sunset?We wrap, while we entrap. Arms have yearned more than eyes,more…
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“Not in the moment, though in the past. A direction is the same as a reflection into something indiscernible and blurred, though made comprehensive and clear when drawn for the future.” – Modern Romanticism There is never something so beautiful as what a person can forgive. Then, each angle is not so much needed to…
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“Idealization is to love, our talent, that is never as real as our skills, our capabilities, the realism that is for a relationship. As we state a person is perfect for us, such is to love. Then, we should never state a person is perfect, since that is the same expressed for their capabilities.” –…
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Melt into decay of remaining day.Thinnest gravity keeps us tucked away.Pressure builds,loosens the stormto die us from our stay. Welcome tears as shadowscome to play.Why do we enter, without setting freethe pain we have come to be? Long glances disconnected from sinceritywhile the moon distinguishesour trances.Unclaimed beauty without yieldwhile twin hearts were firstto leave heat…
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Worship the smile,that keeps us following youthat every step. We weep, with an anchorkeeping us stirred. Embrace, in arms,walking from every corner,to every side. Whispering songs of angelsto our ears, at all divides. Solaced glimpse to your face,glinted, upon the moon’s rise,when rain can find comfortin your disguise. I can, while the sun comes to…
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Beneath, where the cliffloosens its falls, its running streamat the torn page, of ivory.Water keeps whispering for one heartin a gallon, while sinking. Teardrops, nestled in sentencestoo few when against the border of lipsstuck upon the tonguewith flame to seal us tight. Stolen language, – a funeral, sceneries pillaged,while winter carves out stalemates,in frozen sacrilege.…
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Reversed water sweeping your tearsback beneath, back to sleep. Oh, how I incline to reclineyour form upon deserts,to take the stones where youlost raindrops. Bold in the dark,raven atop the waters.Your tears, a curtain.Your fingers, bars to a sideways cage.Uncounted scars, same with stars,gleaming as gunshot woundsupon the soft calmnessof one devilish sea. You gain…
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Hold tight, as fate was not meantto be yours, where the seatransfers your lullabyto the sky. Upon these rocks, an ocean findsyour departure, your expanse. Broken and boardedupon the vessel that carries youthrough streams from cuts,from eyes being shut. Walk from this world,to the next that departswithout an oar to hold,without a handto bring you…
Modern Romanticism 