tempest.

you were the

golden calf of the israelites

and i was

the whore of babylon.

separated by

pages and millenia.

yet our sins were the same,

maybe, like selene,

i would covet

your eternal youth

and have you sleep forever,

the perfectly preserved

endymion of my

long-ago, dreamy persuasions.

the promise

of an existence without you

is bleak.

like jealous hera,

my passions

ride

and

fall

a steady tide of affection

and longing,

tinged with a secret

fear

of loneliness.

 

the 100 eyes of argus

would flutter with

docility

and embarrassment

at the desires of

our flesh.

but sealed on the

feathers

of the greatest showmen

on earth,

his eyes now see

nothing and

we are left to our own

devices.

 

yet for every wicked whisper

you are

jesus,

ready to forgive me,

when i too

descend into the

Underworld

and am crucified as

inanna,

i know i will

rise again

in the safety of your shadow

where judgement

never lingers.

the storm rages within me,

a tempest

tormented in the fascinations

of my love for you.

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