Writing
-
I would witnessIn your eyesThe careful arrangementOf one glistening firestorm,Reviving the nightInto a porcelain day. There are pots, here,Carved to the perfectionOf your form.Each of them wieldsThe same droplets you concealBehind a wearied glance,Where the world faces you. There are flowers to the vases.As to the withering of a life,For all that honesty can implore,There…
-
What is leftUpon starlit eyes,Where galaxies shift intoWasted constellations,From shelteringConsolation. The running darkFrom the milky whiteWaters the hands of God,Among the fruit to His gardenAs wrath boilsIn the fervor. Passion enticesLost elementsTo run with the wind,To that vacant heart. Share the weatherFor not what leavesWith the breeze,Bending branches to burialFor a thousand moreRisen sculptures. Why…
-
Hold this hope,Drown this HeavenTo give to darkness its final reward.We haveFaded along the pathWith shadows crossing our direction,Waiting in the sunrise,As the sunset whipsOur turned backs. As the fadeAlong with the shadeBelieves in what cannot rise,Though with two lips pressedTo rotting skies,As withering angels,We can teemAmong this anchoring gleam,With our arms as shelter. We…
-
To how much I have crossedTo inhale the vapor, before your eyes.To offer youThe need to seeAll pain that has created thisCrown of thorns, above me. While vines drop your lifeAt every sweet grape,Notice the wine that flows from wrists,Bitter to the flavorOf finality. I have pulled off the leechesDrunk from the serene,FamiliarWarmth of a…
-
Here, as gravity reaches you,Though never pulls you downTo remain in these arms,Against the night. You will continue to singWith a face disclosed of all signs.Of weariness to your form,For pain that never belongsAmong the candleflame at the endsOf wax fingers. Dropping the sceneryStayed too long.With nowhere to belong,Do you still find it hardTo tighten…
-
“Between choosing what is right or what is wrong comes down to having no choice but the correct one or to have infinite excuses to never make the correct choice.” – Modern Romanticism Some would shun away from such a notion that there is “right” or “wrong” within a set of choices. Even if those…
-
It isAs it could be,Though notMeant to be,While this heart still holdsUpon your graven image,Even should it beIn the earth,Buried by tears. Love is an entranceTo an exit,As life is fullOf hopes and promise. I have yearnedFor the space betweenTo have your smile.In your misery,I will find you.Wherever you dwell,I will accompany. I cannot letYour…
-
Long for the sake of a tale, Where dust is scattered Over burned pages. Blossoming a kiss, Opened as the flower Within the velvet Of the watery morn. Her face, did it spill The same ocean we crossed? For her eyes to know What torments to be endured, As vain miles are covered By pulsing…
-
“The preference that relates to the numerous tastes, of differing individuals, is not at all a comparison to quality. If it is quality that compares not to the subjective opinion or personal preference, then quantity does.” – Modern Romanticism To judge the quality of an item, or even a person, is not to see what…
-
“It is always through the recognition of what is vulnerable, for what can easily be stripped free from our awareness, that makes a person take nothing of its preciousness for granted.” – Modern Romanticism “Nothing in life is free,” as such is the clear saying from those who have lost, nearly lost, or have kept…
-
Holy for the trail I gave into sickness and wail, Bled for love, beyond The selfish self is won, While she drew a curtain About all modesty, stunned, Weeping with crystal glaciers Born over silver eyes. She knew the dark could not keep The places where she’d fled, As torn clothing brought me closer, Closer…
-
“Escapism is the retreat from truth.” – Modern Romanticism To run towards where one can be blissful, will be far from what hurts. Though, what hurts, is truthful. And, what we avoid, are always among the most powerful of emotions. Complexities, that we do not wish to conquer. In the bliss for how Heaven can…
Modern Romanticism 