Autumn
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Are you here to findThe petals or the lost brushOf too many burned leaves?They have rained, you know,From a higher templeThan the one we’ve gathered ourselvesWith feet placedTo see the rising stars. Thy gaze,Thy mazeTo be lost inBeside the arms that reachLike boughs,Like the gloom,Like the shadowsThat grow longer by your fallen eyelids. I am
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Winter is my wisdom,My horror and my way.Little kisses are there to land, themselvesUpon your long and gifted neck,That I admire to its porcelain texture.I am enamored by you, and all the despair you throw out,To your naked feet.Beautiful creature of all my savage wisdom,I will kiss you, until the end of every new tomorrow.
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Beauty recedes with the push of timeAgainst its frail and vulnerable form.Alike when you called the breath of my sigh, to rub itselfAgainst your worn cheeks,Against where teardrops leakThemselves, downwards to your polished, ruby lips. We are both frail, with few things to remember,So why do you desire to see all else, corroded by blackness?A
Modern Romanticism 