To Lovers Lost

Amber Camilleri

To disgrace, borne of unsaid things
Whispers against ebon hair, I cry
Love, or not, plays out across dark eye
Away from you, so sure, my heart grows wings

But close uncertainty grips its razor strings
‘Twas not your hair into my soul untied
For that brief moment, free, great eagle cried
Accept I here stand with all my stings

So cast aside, discard, and move along
Release this limbo into which I fall
I lick my wounds and skulk and bend my all
I wait, I pray, I die, to sing my song

Sweet lover sworn once blossoms clean and bright
Flounders now in ashes of this fair night

Page Twenty Three

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