Memories
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Some refer to love as what should be meant as unconditional, as though stating it for the sake of promotion. If love is not always unconditional, then how is such able to remain beyond death? How does a person retain memories of what was lost of what was trusted, if the love disappeared with the
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“As we love, we feel the other person, never ourselves. To this degree, we realize that through such love, it does not die, even in death. Within our heart, we feel them. To feel the other person has us comprehend the limitlessness of our beloved’s existence, even during the flesh’s non-existence.” – Modern Romanticism Love
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“Do we ever forget who we love? Or, do we ever forget who loves us? Are we to reduce ourselves to the selfish fool, who cannot appreciate the selfless gesture of kindness? It is in our pain, that trust has died, not ever love. Love does not become torn apart, for that is not what
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“Comprehend it, as it may seem, that the soul is real. Non-existent, lacking matter, lacking physical structure, and so unlike the form. But, it retains its place in the world. Attempt to resurrect a form as the person with the same personality and memories they were, in life, and it is impossible. Memories are the
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Memories are there for the mind to soak itself, in waters so murky or translucent, that feelings will continue to haunt and create sensations for the body to feel. Alessio is feeling upon this day the pain of hardness. Though, it is in a meditative state. For he is sitting with his eyes buried in
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I give thy finger a circle of gold,Before the altar that releases,Our ongoing fulfillment,Of love.Blessed are thee, when you shiver,Under a haze of rising stars,Under a night sky with fevers increasingIn their temperament,And ongoing fervency.How you find yourself locked,In the sky’s open wings,Crying beneath merciful love. I find thy beauty entrancing,Melting away sorrow. This final
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Your face,With idle tulips grown from lips so sweet,And eyes so resplendent against the moon’s gleam,I wish to know of your beauty.Of glassy complexion, and everything wanting,Of everything wanted, by me. You have a heart that needs holding,For it deserves freedom.There are chains,Needing to be removed,A love I have vowed to embrace,With all my brutal
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Unloved and made for pain,Here is me, made for the world to see,What is death with a breath?What is love without the sigh? With a face once so full of gold,And no more beauty to behold,Angel wings burned,A life upturned,Like mine,And I fell upon a thorn. Sympathy is the reward of the overthrown,Stepped down to
Modern Romanticism 