My lyre is a gift from my father Apollo
its strings are the only place you still exist.
Eurydice.
My love, the poison you injected in your veins
took you from me.
I came for you to the underworld
past the Lethe, river of forgetting
into the Stygian cold.
You said you would come back with me
back into the sunlight
I played my lyre
you followed my music.
They say I lost faith.
They say I stopped playing
and you lost your way.
I know that when I turned to look for you
you were not there.
You never followed me a step.
You would not be cheated of your sweet death.
What could I offer
with my simple love
to rival the excitement
of such darkness?
All that is left is my song.
While my chords echo
in sound or in memory
my love lives again.