When amber births new love, the mortal chains
of old not freely cast can snare and choke
the tender sprout before the shadow wanes
and make the hope of love a cruel joke.
Your loving words must sift through filters stained
by past, malicious men, boys playing games,
and voices dark within. Where terror reigned,
can love arise from ashes? Vibrant flames
of lust appear as I expected, but
your eyes are dimmed with that familiar shade
in my reflection. Pain and doubt, the cut
inflicted, will paired scars infect or fade?
May heartbreak past and anger leave us both
unshackled healing, sunrise love, and growth.