Workingmen believed
He busted trusts,
And put his picture in their windows.
"What he'd have done in France!"
They said.
Perhaps he would--
He could have died
Perhaps,
Though generals rarely die except in bed,
As he did finally.
And all the legends that he started in his life
Live on and prosper,
Unhampered now by his existence.

Romance is beautiful, in every sense of the word. From the very first moment you hold her hand to the last touch of your lips to her forehead. From the moment you first realise you have fallen in love, the moment your eyes brighten when she walks into the room, when she walks into your sight, to the moment you hold her for the last time as her tears stain your shirt, falling from her eyes, down your neck, burning you as you say goodbye.

Even Romance can make heartbreak look beautiful. From cheeks delicately stained with the saddest of tears to lips trembling as she holds her words back, desperate not to beg you to stay but also desperate to let you know how much she loves you. From the way her forehead creases every time she painstakingly thinks of you, every time her mind tortures her with thoughts of you, to the way she bites her lip to stop herself from saying your name whenever she is reminded of you, whenever she thinks fondly of you, remembering sweet memories that are but a distant daydream now.

Romance is beautiful, in every sense of the word. From the time you first laid eyes on her to the last.

*- a.b.

There were different pinks blues oranges and yellow,
Her feelings were depicted in the sky.

She remembered that time you counted off the stars
With her; the ones so neatly aligned.

She was as lost and mesmerized
As she was in your eyes..
The set with different blues and yellows
She hated to admit it but you had her at hello.

i am a prisoner to your fingertips and i am recidivating and falling in love with a jail cell is not glamorous but i’m not sure how to stop
i have scraped my fingernails with barbed wire trying to get rid of you, why won’t you leave?
there are gaps between our teeth so the breath between you and i can keep us alive during the times we binge on kisses
is this what it feels like to be an addict?
i cannot rest until your lungs have swallowed my consciousness and for a heart to keep beating there must be a reason and this is why people die of heartbreak because ******* it, there is no reason without you
my heart hasn’t stopped beating; i think it is just as hopeful
teeth don’t always have to bite so why do you use them as weapons?
not only am i a prisoner to your fingertips but to your mind, to the gaps between your teeth even when you can’t bear to kiss me, to the idea that one day i’ll receive a get-out-jail-free card and you’ll be waiting at the iron gates for me
i don’t have a release date but i expect i’ll be serving a lifelong sentence
i am barricaded in and all i can hear is your voice all i can see is your face all i can do is clutch on to the voice i lost a long time ago but i would scream if i could and do you know how lonely it is being a prisoner in an abandoned jail?
i am a prisoner to your body and every time you demand my touch, i am there and every time you throw me away, locked up and silenced for days, i am not plotting my escape
i am famished and starved and famished and starved, i think it’s because you keep swallowing my consciousness and no amount of food will fill me; i have grown accustomed to being empty
i am a prisoner to your fingertips and i have fallen in love with this jail cell home