Romantic
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“It is not love that is found. It is love that is fought, for the life, to remain alive. For what we find might slip, and what we hold onto is never released even if it burns our hands.” – Modern Romanticism
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“Her beauty is the leaves during Autumn, meant to fall, and be swept upon the road like tears across cheeks. ‘Why lie to yourself?’ might say any sensible person, to this disdainful soul. She counts Heaven for its stars, though never for its sole kingdom. A mansion has a place for her, though the beds…
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“Protection of culture. Protection of tradition. Protection of a nation against invaders. This is love, being what prolongs the longevity of humanity. We are halted, down upon our knees in fear, not submission to love’s guidance, when not ever embraced. Love has developed each human society, because through protection, nothing can crumble. We find, beyond…
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“Love is the sickness to the cure. It is the vaccine. Love vaccinates. For love prevents the damages from being done, further. Love protects. Love shields. In work, a builder will raise all that was, at one point, mere pieces. A sickness, as that is love, being also the cure. We are, when in love,…
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Love walks. She walks. Or, she had walked, and now she lays. Upon a back with eyes to a ceiling. Her ceiling. Her mind with walls and the drawn-in above. A world of hers, this Lisa, who can smile without sincerity. Radiance makes its way over her skin, masking something more than this. A belief…
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To love is the biggest risk for any human. It involves more risk than what it takes to be respected, or to be feared. If such is the case, then why do romance novels depict a relationship like perfection? It is not believable, to say the very least. What happened to tragedies? What happened to…
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She stands so Hellish. She would move so Hellish. Lisa whites out her flame, her spark for a dream, before a sleep ever began. She stands in a fire, and walks in the inferno, for she likes the burn to touch her. She looks at herself around the flame’s tendrils, like its form can be…
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Who bleeds for me, To who forgets me? Who causes themselves to decline To my level? Who waits for me While I dine on ashes? There is a pebble To be hurled into a lake. There is tall grass Where there is fire to burn it. I seem to have leaked A tear to cross…
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“What do you comprehend?” protests Joel, going to say, “You believe you realize what thrives in my heart? I am madly in love with her!” “Do not be so angered. As a friend, I merely wish to speak with sole honesty. You are in torment with her, and even without her physical presence,” says Aaron.…
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The tears surround, Like oceans that are birthed From my growing eyes. They lift, Though pull back At the sight of the skies That cry ever greater streams To the tenderest dreams I once had of you. Why of pain, Does it need to rain? Why of this grief, I must remain in disbelief? We…
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Let loose your feathers, Your wings come unfurled To the blood of romance. You curl your eyes to the sunset, Radiant upon your back. I seek to draw back a lock Invading the space in your sight, To be behind your ear At the spot where I let stay my hand. You are contented, As…
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Hold yourself Close to your beloved thorns, Bleeding your arms to be dried. You caress your wounded heart Like a pup That has lost its own mother. I believe truth Can be as changeable As the weather, As your expressions, As your form when it ages, As your fingers when they wilt Like the petals…
Modern Romanticism 