May 15
i would have loved you like they did in the myths—recklessly, desperately, with the kind of devotion that makes gods jealous. i’d have turned rivers to wine just to hear you laugh, stolen fire to keep you warm. you’d have been my sanctuary, my ruin, my reason to defy the heavens.
they would have written songs about us. called us tragic, called us fools, called us immortal. and they’d be right. because even when the world crumbled around us, i’d have clung to you, begged the fates to weave us back together, again and again.
you could have been my helen, my eurydice, my psyche. my everything.
but here i am, mortal and alone, clutching the echoes of a love that never came to be.
