Love
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Inflamed, to touch himmeans to see somethinggoing black, in widening daylight.A scar, a burn, a bruise,a sore that neglects, that ignoreshis uncontrolled fire. Leave him with his torch.Do not bring it forth,humming his tunebeneath the radiance of Neptune.His tears are his ocean to find,where his face paints a trail, never failing to remind himof a…
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Where you were,where you remained,turning to icewhile I, with these sheetsof paper, captured youin words of blue. I’ll continue to knowhow love caused us to bleedwith startling consequence,with faces that were fewto watch us, to leave uswith utmost pity. A state of knowingwho we were,bathing under those ashes,giving into those secondswe were true,we still knew.…
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Fewer, to beunderneath, where wewere counting stars,bleeding with those cutsalong our sacred miles. We were dreaming,or were we screamingin stinging our eyeswith reflections,with desperation? We watched this,from afar. The moonwith its rush of scars,the stillness of aftermaths,of meteorites againstwhat something could notwin against. Exhalation. Reflection.To see our sights in those drifts,where fire forced us to…
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A degree of heat,your body turned to white –the ash of a fallen world,blanketed in coldest warmth, for I still want tosee you, hold youeven when that thunderkeeps me drowned under. This final flake of snowceased our love to grow,becoming a rush of thornsdeep where we were torn. To magnitude, with gratitudeto seek your return,…
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Helplessly holdingthis passing wind,letting myself fall backinto your voice. I have heard a word,choosing to collapse,wanting to come down, fatal with the structureof an empire, gone coldwith this love, too old. You have said,“Who are you,when you are buildingyour presence, near to mypainful absence?” I rememberwhat keeps weepingits moments, into mine,into my wearied sight.You wereeverything…
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Hear this,knowing what’s leftof a sad manwith his beating heart,racing for apocalyptic fitsof senseless rediscovery. He wants to see,he wants to cryshapes of what he’s lost,holding hands with someonein the mist. Another pointless resupplyto that heart that lives onin ceaseless moments,though not without momentum,not without that pushtowards a bottomless hole,where reflections failto look back. He…
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Laying naked, among this forestof your quiet voice,like a hushed whisperthat keeps singing aloud a memoryI want to forget, I want to losealong with what I’ve lost. In letting you go,can I go? Can I runfar from your swollen arms?You were hurt, buried in life,beneath all that sheltered youunder a glowing sun.We had hope,though you…
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Turn to sleep.Turn, far from meinto your whispering winds,hearing what’s good for youto hear, while what’s coming nearare numerous thrown rocks. You’ll fall,weeping your open eyesinto your shadows,tossing in a bewildering delusionof surrounding peace. You want to hold closewhat’s comfortable to breathe,forgetting those soundsof your heart,bouncing from wallsinto closets. I am at your window,spying a…
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What am I,beneath this wreckage?A grasshopper without legs,hoping to leap from a cliff,though motion comes not.Just an unanswered shell,who has felt his Hellwielding him, deep withinhis unshed skin. What does the monster hide,if not for his reflection in an ocean?He dips his hands,writes his name on the horizon,hoping that morningwill forgive him from mourning. To…
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White pages,frozen in fragile sympathy,telling you what I havealways felt,since I have ever soldthis heart into those ashes.I continue to revisitwhat you have disposed of. I have kept caringabout a singular secondto speak to you.Behind these tears,a man speaks plainly.Although, he’s speakingto someone who runs behindher shelter, her fears. Upon a collectionof dust, I have…
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You were saying to methat all has been through chance,the fact that we’ve braved tides,sheltered under storms,raced through those mileswhile always tornin balancing upon a thread. That thread, it kept our journeyjust one step further,as we struggled, with all our kissesupon our throats that swallowed air,along with our pride. We humbled ourselves,loving our victories,though you…
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There’s a time for each of usto bury our valued fates,with nothing left to surrender,nothing left to rememberbut the black inkupon a faded sheet of loose-leaf,letting them go, beneath, letting them run, towards that nebula,towards that sun, where colorswill swell, before all goes gray. There’s these memoriestossed with hurled debris,from racing winds,while there are these…
Modern Romanticism 