Siren Song
You are Alexander the Great upon
my Gordian Knot that Misery has
wrapped me in. A swift cut placed
with expert precision, pragmatic.
You are Hebe, ladling the sweet
ambrosia of your love into my
ever parched goblet, drinking
desperately your honeyed passion.
You are the Siren song, taunting
me to untie myself from the moors
of iron and wood, begging me to
listen to your poisoned anthem.
You are Greek Myths, my love.
You are the universal game of
millions and millions of atoms
colliding and recolliding together.
You are nothing but yourself.
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