Desperation
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How far Does the world travel to To be at its end? Why does it seem That inhabitants Will trade away Things, to whisper lies As sweet as the embers that were once in our hearts? A smile is only as curved As the head that may twist around To see the stagnant shadow Yet
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Cling upon me,For your immediate comfort.You have wept with a shivering form,And eyes that obey all contention.A face that needs no bliss, as mineOr your own, for the coming deprivation. Disease me, your wounds of many fields.Kiss me, O woman of much gathered,Suffer not, when the world comes tumblingUpon our bosoms, so wide and heavy.We
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As my arms extend outwards,To reach for what I had lost,There’s only the air,And only a strand of hair,To embrace,I have touched the edge of a bed. I have made my home a nest,Of emptiness.I have become one withLoneliness and grief.It is because of an agony,One with so much melody,Within her gruesome cries,To my eyes.
Modern Romanticism 