Memory
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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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I follow your sight,From where you’ve shielded a pair of eyes.A breathy note,Has now encapsulated you,Has made you small,Has made you wanting. I am but the smallest farewell,To an eternity of blue,A dismal song kept farawayTo the oldness of a yesterday.A beautiful memoryThat is doused in searing pain. How your hair has grown!Young one, how
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There’s a famous way to recreate,What has always deprived my soul,Of recollection;Of the memory that sitsOn the crown of thorns above my brow,It drips smallest droplets,Of vermilion, to my tongue.What do I taste?I taste a love so sweet, and still, so bitter,I taste my failure raising from a daunting Hell,And I feel my beloved’s breath
Modern Romanticism 