Possession
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As I weep,Her power is still overcomingEach shed drop.I still love, with a breath that cannot stillItself, with her fragrance,Her own breath, a spice and a rose,And a blush to her cheek,That I cannot tell to be,Embarrassment or pleasure. Face in my palms,And beauty has now possessed me.I weep a newborn tear,To let my feet
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Face our turmoil,And rend the world apart!See where we have felt the stinging pain,The toil to what has been called love. Never love and only the survival bought from danger,I am a man of guilt who is asked to be strong.I am a man of pain who is asked to be painless.I am a man
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Her ethereal,Becomes commonplace,When as the witness,To the sight of depravity. The sight of God,Too bright,For wicked stains,Of blight,To make a grand performance,For the mark of love. She has the form of an infant,But the exquisiteness of the priestess.She has the desires of Eve,And the embellishments of Adam. She has the warmth from the sun,Though, the
Modern Romanticism 