Apr. 29th, 2011

golden_lyre: ([art] frieze)
Before we lay together
in the fragrant
grass
I was only
half alive.

A frost came
and scythed
the whole
field flat.

Maybe she loved me,
maybe not--
who knows?
Not even the gods
can see into
a human heart--
it's that dark.

But mine beats
its syllables
of need
and I begin
my journey
with no thought
but this:

I'm lost,

lost,
unless I bring her back.


-Gregory Orr

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Ὀρφεύς - Orpheus

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