Charlie F. Kane (1/14/1989 / Solihull, Birmingham)

The Last of the Romantics

The last of the romantics,
Last of a dying breed.
A rose held in a tight grip-
A present for the thought
Of the one he loves.
The last of the romantics.
A red rose encased in barbed wire.
The last of the romantics,
One among a dying breed.
The last of the romantics-
Proud to be individual,
Hates feeling so alone.
The last of the romantics-
Dancing in the rain.
The last of the romantics-
Kissing under moonlight.
The last of the romantics-
Raging against the light,
Fighting against been torn down.

As long as romance exists there is hope,
And the last of the romantics will remain so.

Adam McKim 12/11/1984

Memories

Memories of good times
Memories of bad times
Memories of our love
So many memories

Memories of us crying
Memories of us laughing
Memories of our commitment
So many memories

Memories of us hugging
Memories of us kissing
Memories of those late nights
So many memories

Memories of how we met
Memories of how you left
Memories of what you said
So many memories

Why did you leave me
with so many memories
Did you ever realize
that my memories are yours

Everything we did together
stays within our memories
I remember getting hurt
Do you hurt too

Let's make a new memory
that we can both share
Let's love again
in our memories.

Aftermath by Amy Lowell 1912

I learnt to write to you in happier days,
And every letter was a piece I chipped
From off my heart, a fragment newly clipped
From the mosaic of life; its blues and grays,
Its throbbing reds, I gave to earn your praise.
To make a pavement for your feet I stripped
My soul for you to walk upon, and slipped
Beneath your steps to soften all your ways.
But now my letters are like blossoms pale
We strew upon a grave with hopeless tears.
I ask no recompense, I shall not fail
Although you do not heed; the long, sad years
Still pass, and still I scatter flowers frail,
And whisper words of love which no one hears.