#poets
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Of eyes turned towards the sea,There is not much left to bleedFrom a glance upon infinity.I can recallThe winter stormsResting with eternal easeUpon my heart. I gave gentlenessA close regardFor a nearby future,With her, within my arms. Something scaresThe tears away.Someone singsTheir loss, to the stars. RememberingWhite rapids,Black voidsWhere pain found its homeIn the loving
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CuspThe great rushing tide.We can swim a great defeatDown to where you were buriedIn the flame.Holding hands with a ghost,As two eyes lay embedded in mind,Purging souls into rain. LoveWeakens the heart,Strengthens the mind,Releases the fogTo the longest road out fromOpen doors.I feel,Though I cannot see. BloodIs the shared wires,A connection of distant callbacksOf voices,
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No matterThe trial,The tribulation.No matterThe divide,The void.A promise shall be thereAs a ring upon your slender finger. No blackened voyageShall miscarry your feet.No overcast skyShall make of your features, the sorrow. No simple sighOf undressed lonelinessCan be of remnant,In my cleansing. I will cry open a gate to you,Of tears to flood you forth,Building tunnels
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Braid my lips,Taste the poisonThat crosses my tongue.The world dividesBetween us,Amidst oceans created by tears,Among wars caused by fears.Pain engulfs usIn the mighty torrent. Just a shared blossomFor us to bow low to,Among sung songsSpilled from echoing hearts,Heard as lifelike notesPlucked upon the strings, so delicateIn the birth of old beginnings. Bestowed tragedyThe world can
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Keep your eyesBandaged,Your armsScarred by the sun’s dropletsOf warmthOn everywhere your face departs,On all folds of flameYou reject, with the twist. I bleed,Though the red goes missing.I decay,Though the yellow and flashes of orangeAre simple criesInto difficult blindness. You bond your stilled selfTo the trying coldnessI have come to name it.Sicken yourselfOn the remaining waste,And
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Touting the sea,Swindling my heart,Forming kisses out of starsYou will birth in a new archOf this love you have ached to see. I call my tearsBackwards, to the slopeOf my belittled cheek,For the stinging salt upon my eyesHave slept, to have settled. EruptYour sadness, into mercilessness,For you have cleaned the bloodFrom lips,Tasting the thorns. I
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Love,With your lips a trembleAs the leaves through the thicket,Run to me,That I might carry youIn what have beenThe emptiest arms. Watchful,WishfulTo each frowning smile,Teeming of the mindAmong your heart. You want this,You want to leaveThe peeled-off garmentsOf your sadnessTo the sea, where you swum. Feel this,A single stroke through your hair,One solitary kissUpon your
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Rowing in place,Moving a spaceFor grace to be dropped,As it was heavedSo heavily in my unending arms.For I haveAllowed her sails to tatter,Her winds to be scattered. I drew kissesThrough the mouths of porcelain,Holding hands with grass blades,Cutting my flesh with warmth,With newest blissCreating my sceneryAbroad, from the waves. I drew her aroundAs autumn leaves
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I can bury what I feel,Though the ocean crosses so much.So much hurt,Without the heart to bury a face. FadingWith songs outstretchedOn the complacent shore.She would echo a noteFor embracing arms,Yet silence has fallen like a curtainOver the final breath. My eyes stingWithout the salt to spray them.I keep close to painIn the hope, that
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This dire veilAbove my eyes,Throws off my tearsInto greater puddlesThan the mere oceans. When you areNever here,I grow an extra handTo stretch from its trembling twins. When you areAlways here,A thin tide erases the currentFrame of broken memories. Simmering winds,Flaming egos,I want to love with freedom,Though I drown with contemplation.
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Rolling anchor,Wind upon cheeks,Loyalty is a farewellTo the skin that tremblesIn the undying cold. Her tears come runningTo flood her way.More words come shunningThe woman into smoke. Feel her heartBoil against the brine.Touch her hands,Having held to her lipsThe feverish wine. Call her by name,Not by shame.Direct her by a way,Not by playsWhere she has
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Dear,Lay your kisses deepIn the puddles of where I’ve laidHollow, broken structuresOf my imminent disuse.Solace and scornMerges as sunset and sunrise,While a few pebblesCreate the eclipseUpon a surface, most shallow.For I knowOf a place no one goes. I know of a roomWhere feelings are keptIn rotting books,Of worshipped words,A failure’s ascension.Nothing savesThe broken man of
Modern Romanticism 