We wrote our names with scrawling hand
in the book that lay before us
none knowing yet that we were damned
by own hearts treasonous
We spoke the words and named the name
looked to each other’s eyes
ourselves then laid waste, to claim
remnants of abandoned guise
‘Tween lost and found we wander through
a stumbled marsh — confusion
and with each step we do accrue
a set of new illusions
In ceaseless longing I expire
fallen to dark brooding
but eyes are still upon your spire
though you be love eluding
Would that I could see your face
and hear your laugh once more
would you grant me with your grace
ever still adore
