Being the goddess of love must be so tiring...
To be loved because of your beauty or the warmth in your eyes or the sound of your voice or the way your smirk makes your dimples show or simply because you are desired.
To be loved but to not know how to truly love must be terrible...
To bend the wills of men & women alike. They want YOUR favor. They want you, they don’t need you.
But when you find that one, the one who praises you, the one who sees you for exactly what you are. When you find the one who kisses your feet & anoints you.
But you must understand, the goddess of love has never loved. She fears the sensations growing within her.
She sees her disciple would do anything for her. To the point where he’d love her even if she went to the dark side. He’d follow her to the underworld to be within her presence.
That’s the love. The love she feared she’d never find but found it. Without reason. He just loves her. & she can’t understand why when all she’s done is charm & deceive & assisted others in finding what she seeks most.
Being the goddess of love IS tiring... but it’s the tired she’d been looking for for eons.
J.C.R.//Things I’ll never say to you