Literature
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Where beauty plays with its ashes,And sees romance in every word.Spoken by delicate and worthless eyes,Being the eyes of mine,I see, above me,Two swipes of scarlet brimming with a word. And, as that word falls onto my face,I begin to notice how it writhes,Soon when it touches my beaming forehead,Alike a drop of rain, from
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Here are glimpses for the world’s most benevolent,And you have a face that would make the Earth,Lean forward to kiss its heavenly smile. Allow ocean to meet ocean,And sorrow to die away,In all we know of each other. Your stare is but two visions apart,And I know not which,To put my own glance. Hand me
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Of all romance, and of all aromas,Romantic and aromatic,Footsteps fall onto the floor with grace,And allow the moon to drop that single tear,Upon her ever-worn and smoothed face,Alike the rocks that receive the wind. Love is a calling,To her feeble form.Though, she is but a stone,With the fragrant moss upon her gray skin,Still youthful, with
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Of flame to forge,A love to dance upon waves,And swim beneath currents.You carried the most heated words,And breathed them upon my naked guilt.Of all waters to swallowThe buildings of Heaven,Structures meant to collapse,At the slightest movementOf a love unmeant to die. You died,Because I spoke words without leaves,Without the spring to renew it.Now you have
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I buried thee in a grave,For my failure to simply save,The conditions that plague your feeble form,The additions of all terrible inconvenience,A body crippled to beEvery page of our shared tragedy.Love is now at its knees,Calling me down to see,What is only a belief. I cannot truly accept,Your loss from myself,Here I kneel as though
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I have wept two single tears,To where our paths shall divide.One path leadsTo a place of flame, of summer with sweetest kiss.The other leads,To a place of coldness, of winter with misery’s tempest. Our faces look upon where I have shownOur world to end itself,By cuts upon its own wrist,For I know,And truly accept,That these
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I run around where I have seen,All where she has mustered up herself.Two little petals upon isolated cheeks,Two dynasties upon a feared woman,And I would kiss them away,Were she to never draw herself away. Two legs,Like two pillars of porcelain.Two eyes,Like embedded rocks of blue.And a haze of green is all I’ve seen,In forests dressed
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Great ripped veil,Above thy blessed nose,And the music around,The sturdy form painted by my brush.You are lonely without a kiss,Dear little one.With fame and might, pleasure and spite,Beauty was all you knew.And the pain was all you grew,Beneath arms,Cradled like infants, in their hollow selves,All dead, and worn,Like ice upon a rash,Beauty is one terrible
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Why bow to the blame?Why bend a knee to the shame,That will cover my woes with greater stains? For tears to mark a path,Across my heavier cheeks,Must be why,I offered a goodbye,Must be why,I ate those tears as sustenance. For tears to make a journey,Across my tired body,Must be simply why,I was never the man,To
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I was a father to her life,And even a mother to her strife,I acted my part,So that she’ll resideAmong fertile valleys and sunlit glades.I was in the mood to touch,Where spots could be soothed,Where wounds could be mended,Though, eyes were only pulled closed. Among death, and among sadness,I was the most fertile, to send tears
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Place me at the direction,Like a child with two teeth to spare,Of the place where a home resides,On its own,In the great wilderness,The infinite wilderness,Of my limitless grief. I wish to be out,Yet, I cannot stay out,Because, my mind is where hours are lost,In the thoughts.You were beautiful in a form,With eyes that shone above,
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Why had it endedWithout faultGiven upon the other?I am so much in the wonderment,So much in the Hellish endurance,Of pain and growing pain.What is so hard to describe,Is that you will love me as another friend,Is that you will drop tears for somethingThat faded as a distant sunset,That faded alike the tears which have driedUpon
Modern Romanticism 