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Call to meEach dismal shapeOf your forgotten beauty.With halls that treasure hearts,Of stillness upon the wallsWhere portraitsKeep faces, with buried lips,With sadnessIn each of their words. Soldiers passGrim countenancesTo the talents of a queen,Ripped freeOf the fortune to love,As scenery runs from their eyes,Pledging boundariesFrom their mind, to Heaven. Children roamUpon where forests collideIn the…
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Glue togetherA burnt remnantWith one departed momentWhere our hands were joinedIn idlest fashion.Strained jointsTo seeIn the eyes of the otherSome farewell to the blue. I have lived for far too longWithout the warmthOf your touch,Frozen in the delicate frameOf a conscious,Unconscious mind. Wide openTo the sounds of rushing air,Between bird wings and coal mines,Within both…
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“From love, people will trust. From betrayal, people will hate.” – Modern Romanticism Hatred is circumstantial as to who becomes the unfortunate soul to be targeted, by it. Though, by the one fused to this suffocating emotion, can be when a lie is what has convinced them that someone has caused betrayal. Through this delusion,…
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He has fed on her stare. Of her smile, too, blossoming from the face, pallid in its ill-like discoloration. Of stare and smile, both. He stays living among wine for his sadness, granting him warmth of vermillion liquid droplets, then to her palms outstretched for his grasp. Of stare and smile that looms, from beneath…
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WastefulDepartureFrom the moon’s aperture,As tears soak the gentle nightOf its entire warmth,Holding hands with a sculptureFeeling coldness, all around. Grief watches the selfOf mirrored glances in the skies,Sending criesTo the curves of the universe.Whisking scenery close,As love blew the final kissOff the furthest cliff. Somber sculptureWith the rain, of eyesThat never show true pain,As isolated…
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Blankets of warmth,As baskets bring flowersAtop what has died,The heart, said to be stoppedFor the good of the world. Yet, its beat was to stayIn place of the eyesThat took to its ill-white veinsA horrid form of symmetryAs rhythms broke the countlessMiniscule reverbs of time. Its beat, of not the decayTo the surrounding imageOf still-life,…
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He stands, to then sit. To sit, then stand, again. Restlessness has him writing a letter both upon desk and heart. A signature bends itself, over the letter, to the submissiveness of holding on. Streaks for loving smiles. Futures that can think on their own, though collapse in the rush. Of blood that reeks of…
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Piano keys,A remembrance of everywhereWhere steps could have walked,Teeming brightOn the slow stridesAtop hard sand. Without a smileTo stay us afloat,Bleeding within our eyesWithout a bucket, for a ropeTo measure the distanceDownwards. Tender heartAnd broken heart,Faceless meanderingsTo the state of understanding.Love has been the vesselOn the open, soft ocean,As eyes are blinded by dustFrom watery…
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BurningOf ourselvesIn the same crimson veins,As waters leakFrom the frozen nest in our eyes,To what we see,For all we disguise. FadingAmong afterlife,LosingSoil in the trenchesWhere our bodies flowDown the slope of a hill. Our arms still locked,With hearts still blockedTo see the sunRaining against our burningAnd cold selves.Our movement is a descension. We will maneuverOn…
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Funnel the hope,Bend your naked selfAround the sensation in your veins,And make of a ropeWith sinew and rotting kisses. Place your feetBack to a memory in the past.Hold hands withStraw-laden wastebaskets,For a portion of your heartHas been trashed. Among delicacyWith your smile,The falsehood of the immaculateAnd somber state of the moon,Counting your tearsLeft off with…
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DoomsdayAnd hollow smokeEntrenches youBeneathIn your velvet curtainOf unguarded sleep. Waking and weepingFor the first funeral to commence,For their sounds have left youBottomless and open. New musicSending your flesh sweepingDust into a fine garbAnd wilted cloak. Walking and runningAtop where you rest,With snow to keep you buriedIn depression’s amorous arms. WintersdayIs a silence to captivate you,Surround…
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“All of politics is born around a hardened structure, with no stains made from tears, no compassion involved without the stead of deception. Involve softness, and its truth is the reveal behind what any politician attempts to conceal.” – Modern Romanticism It is the unfortunate nature of this world, that a woman is the essence…
Modern Romanticism 