X. TO APHRODITE (6 lines)

(ll. 1-3) Of Cytherea, born in Cyprus, I will sing.  She gives
kindly gifts to men: smiles are ever on her lovely face, and
lovely is the brightness that plays over it.

(ll. 4-6) Hail, goddess, queen of well-built Salamis and sea-girt
Cyprus; grant me a cheerful song.  And now I will remember you
and another song also.

My confession
I'm a wretch
A miserable
Broken soul
Stained black in sin
I am shattered

But I am reborn
Scarred, yes
But reborn
Cleansed in fire
Washed
Clean
Pure crimson

I will dive
Deeper
Swallowed whole by the sea
The purifying surf
I will never surface
Yet I will never drown

I The Wicked Son
Drenched in Saving Scarlet

I stare at the mirror and spew profanities at myself
It is utterly unbelievable that I am in such a state
Resisting the urge to grab the nearest pen and paper
And let the ebony ink stain the alabaster surface

Hundreds of days have passed since I've sworn to the skies
I've sworn to the skies that I will never again write
I've sworn that I will never again waste words on you
I will never again waste any sort of figure of speech on you

But sharp nails are piercing through my palms
The only relief for the exacerbating pain
Is making your name bleed through a pen's tip
******* it

I abhor how feeble I am against it
I abhor how feeble I am when it comes to you
I paraded the streets with such a cocky, domineering gait
But after all this time, I remain a slave of the past

I was a slave willing to sink on my knees for you
I still remain a slave, but now a slave with a mind
A slave who knows what's the best for himself
A slave embracing the freedom but glancing back at the binding shackles

I curse at myself in front of the mirror
Because after all this time, you can still put me in a trance
Your eyes still looked the same, breathtaking
And the beauty of your smile still captivates me

I slam my fist on the mirror as I curse myself
And curse myself yet again for cursing you but struggling
Struggling as I painstakingly swallow words of love
Words of love that I had for you, that I still have for you

Yet again I slam my fist against the broken mirror
It's a self-reminder about the fate of my heart in your hands
You have delicate hands with a penchant for destruction
It's the perfect time for you to meet your match
How I wish your heart ends up like mine

I wish that your smiles turn into hot tears
And that his affectionate words turn into sugary guillotine
I wish that his feverish kisses burn your fair skin
And I wish his every whisper of promise will dissipate into thin air

But I know that even if your heart breaks
Your suffering will not heal my wounds
Know that I do not wish for you to return to my arms
And as I sink down onto the ground
As my bare knees press against the shattered glass
I wish for you to hear me:

I just don't want to suffer alone.