Despair
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Had that pillow caressed your feeble headMore than ever my hand could?In such comfort that death could provideTo your ever-more feeble bodyWith its trembling motions, alike the quivering leaves during Autumn,I see your chest raise itself, to a peak,And fall down,You may be ill,Though, you are in comfort. And, I am jealous of death,“To have
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When I cannot love,When I cannot drownIn the arms of a one,Who took me aboveTo see what could not be undone. A woman,A face,Of splendor and beauty,Each small bit of fervency,Each frail part of tragedy,Is hers for the closingOf my heart.One streaming face,One anguished expression,Laced with the marks of a pair of hands,That had ripped
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My sweet, kiss my bitter lips.My love, how shall we dine on my guilt?My beauty, with everything sweet to see,My bitterness, is yet exquisite. Under moon and star,Under faces apart,In love and lust in fire,Far, we walk, under the endless fog,To find a memory that was once pleasant.Dream with me, dear woman. Your black hair
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She was the wind,She is now the sea,Calling out, for sailors to breatheTheir last, upon their own thirst.While gulls transport, from water to scrap.While faces of Heaven see downwards to her,They call no strength to her longing,Her suffering,Is for a hopeless muse.It is an ocean that brims darkness. A fever, she once caused,For the sake
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Wherefore do we speak, when in an embrace,From words that ripple through our forms?Entwined, we dance between velvet stars,Entangled, we have mourned in past memories.I am your child, and I am puny.You are my beloved, and I am in you. Sheets surround us,A rope is at our feet.A love has groped us,A love that set
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How has it that suffering has placed a crown,On this starved mind, enclosed in a shell?When I saw a face, that was yours,I drew weariness away from that mind,And the gems grew a brilliant luster. Am I not the pain that lingers,Upon your reddened lips?Am I not the darkness that incurs,Due to the flowers that
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The trembling that thou exposes,In flesh that remains not calm,An empire of rubble lays at your feet,A certain sickness dwells in your heart. You have found beauty in places of loathing,You have wept before mirrors that showed oceans,You have laid brick where the rich dwell,You have made flame upon lands not scorched. And eyes once
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Here, we breathe, disaster,With our voices, set on high,As death, surrounds us,And our might, has departed,To a stranded shore. I am in love, only with myself,A blessing, that has made, me wishful,A curse, that has made, me lonesome.What have I, turned upon,Where will I, turn upon,Next, when dining upon, a victim?Will I muse, and take
Modern Romanticism 