Like a word about to be spoken
/stolen/
Like a bird who cant fly, I am grounded from on high
The local village
Returns me my misery
Sweet melancholy,
You truly comfort me
Unlike apathy
Like a promise
about to be broken
/vows;
already
]taken
]stolen
Oh Sappho hear my mind and treat my lies
Have my heart for this
How beauty doth arrive without notice
How grace falls upon all of us
In humility or in mercy
for our own selves
But
When we die
We must watch carful
And never will we forget to notice
The sleep of eons
When we all join the gods
Like a heart beating,
Like a soul reaching out just-
Trying-
No;
Begging to be pronounced