Romance
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If I neverfell at your feetto cry your namein a long line. If I neverresisted these tearsthat carry me nowhere,I might have kept on. If I neverchose to watch youwilt like oceans could notwater your barren garden.If I had alwayskept sand from exitingbetween fingertips,like those words of promiseI let stray like dandelion seedsover infertile deserts.…
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Now thatcrying eyes have solvedall frames and puzzles,I’ll look at your watered lawn,your garden that gleamsamong regrown forests. I’ll look at our bedwhere shadows have arrivedfrom set suns, closed eyesresting for greater depravityat retained thirst. Building our fatesto surrender to what weboth remember,holding droplets to soakanother page in our bible,weeping in vainfor forgiveness. Missing your…
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Burning rooms. Fields of vision.Your train of thought wires usin disconnection. I am helpless,in a battlefield without remission.Our vows are empty,without revision. Nakedness. Petal-less.A near bloom that fadedin an empty room. Rose-red picturesdiluted of their original flavor.We dried in our tears,while bringing our griefonto bloodstained letters. To wine, in its bitterness. To oceans in their…
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Herein lies a crippled horse. He struggles to find a way to walk. Tears have left him burning on a slope that moves his eyes always down. Why will he always look down? To feet that never move him. To scars that never leave him. They are remade to be ripples within hardening soil, though…
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I’ll hold.Hold your head close.Under these waves,where stars burn down. All those symptoms.Synonymous. With the shot that occurs.In the dark. In the dark.Under our hearts,where waters have come down.Crashing in the dark.Crashing against us,devoted while apart. We have held.Our oceans are never one.With sands that fill around,hourglasses and empty sound. Time is a grain in,with…
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Who knocks on his door? No entry. No pulse. Please give him ease. A nurse bathed in white; for I say, he has not yet left. I give him ease, with his hand held in mine. I give him relief, with his breath taken into mine. A leftover. A winter’s clover. As luck will have…
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Loose notes. She lost her voice. Repeated words, undressed in rhythmic syllables, while she: she hung onto heartbeats. She hung onto sound. Lost in her voice. A kiss deserted in her skin. A phase dug from her wounds. Hoped to be temporary. Forgotten into a memory. A moment that loses control, while she: she hung…
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Sharp eyes,fortified, amplified,noticing her worldbare, on a one-way roadthat comes, goes,repeats in a world of anguish,scarring tissue, leavingher as forgotten, with handheldmoments, that areemptier than when we arenoticing those leavesshe lets fall fromblossomed cheeks. What do we comprehend,when those letters of hersare crumpled, with her heart?Drenched, torn openin those vulnerable cueswhere skies go from darkinto…
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Pain follows its footstep,under where we criedwith blue in its dimmest hue,wired in this shelterwhere storms never pass,deserving usborn upon another,bleeding where weare distantly smothered. Thunder fadesto come, again, as weare each crack in a treethat grows if only to showwhat it did not know. We are those flamesthat conceal ourbrittle wounds. Nothing tolive for,…
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Muted, in thesefaces of grief,poisoned in a shellthat keeps revealingpictures from Hell.Your eyes,a cross between voids,carrying memoriesthat keep me fadingsomewhere betweengray and a passing day. Near to whereyou rest, under meas I kneel here,kissing sands, holding handswith a symptom that nevergoes away. A set sun,a green verdureforest that escapesme, into dark,where memories arefragrances in perfume,in…
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All those sirensshriek to soundingdoomsday, in itshelpless gray,no different than anyblank page that laysas those curtainsto keep our hopes lessenedwhile our tears soakour outheld hands, withour hearts becoming silentin this new day. Another dawn, anothercoming of another age,though withall our rewritten pages,resaid vows, we arewritten twice, though aresplit between vice,split between wordswe froze into icewhile…
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Sheltered undermusical thunder.You’ve opened your coffinto take deafening steps,forward. Can you send a tearback to these fieldswhere I remain buried?A heart had been a conductorwith electrical cords,while silenced communicationleft me with those stormsI cannot see,while you turn to fleebeyond these puddles,beyond mirrors. Entrance to a different room,while our memories sail onwithout reaching doom.You walk insidea…
Modern Romanticism 