Romance Poem
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God adores thee, as He sits beside me,Upon my dying bed of agony.My disease has been this welded momentWelding my heartstrings through themselves.Breathe into me,Your life, as a kiss,God will hold thy feeble hand,For I am an old man,With many sorrows.And you are His woman, His nuptial being. God has loved you more than me,God
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Play for me,Dear, struggling woman,Though, our patterns be great,They seem to turn upon their own command.I found love upon your own throne,Upon your own grace,Upon your own face.Tears struggle mad to free themselves,From daily confinement.Bruised and scorned by the sun,Patterns grow immense, in all levels of sadness.I see futures born from all variousMoments in sickness.
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Why have I felt, the need, to break,And unbind the fortune, of love?Where there is so much, to behold,I see tears, streaming precious gold,I see a face, made with ivory,Though, bendable like silver. Your face quivers, from the gentlest touch,And show creases of misery, from the widest brush,A face of no sympathy, that I behold,For
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There is weight, under my legs,Breath that drains, from my lips,And the whisper, to which, I utter, the solemn note,Has the message of breath, between the eyes. I find no mercy, coming from your words,You speak of discontent, and demise,And there’s no comfort, for us.You say you cry to sleep, each night! Why has God,
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Wherefore do we speak, when in an embrace,From words that ripple through our forms?Entwined, we dance between velvet stars,Entangled, we have mourned in past memories.I am your child, and I am puny.You are my beloved, and I am in you. Sheets surround us,A rope is at our feet.A love has groped us,A love that set
Modern Romanticism 