My melancholy sings an ode to heartbreaks,
Oh, how easy it is to disappear in the soft dusk of day,
a senseless escapism in the colours of the sky.
The rustle of feathers,
as Icarus falls in love.
At the end of the story there was a cliff and a poet.
Her song was over and history was cruel.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ll end that way,
with the wind in my hair and my endless love raging against the tides,
my flaxen haired lover weeping as she holds my spiritless body.
Am I a tragedy written by a Greek poet gifted to a god?
Whispered from one lover to another as they embrace,
hidden from seeing eyes.
Am I a flower weeping the loss of life on a bloodied ground?
Or am I a string of yarn to lead you back.
thousands of years between here and there.
The lament of Sappho, Andy Hearth.
Since my first poetry book, Morning Afters, is coming out tomorrow on kindle, I wanted to share a poem from my second book, The lament of Sappho, that I am currently working on. Thank you for supporting me!
