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Poetry: Letters

by Cassandra Latisse

Created on: July 07, 2009

Eros-

I used to think I knew everything about you. How you worked. How you made me feel.

I guess I was wrong.

What I can't really figure out is what the hell you want from me. You're a gift, some say, but I think that you're more like a curse. Why love if everything you want is taken away from you instantaneously?

I want you. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than you. But whenever I seem to imagine your reality intertwined with mine, you turn away. And the next moment, you inflict yourself upon me in your feast of anguish. Is this your sick method of self-actualization, by pushing yourself upon me while I am distracted? Or do you just know, that once you find me, there is no way I will run?



I was fine without you. Fine in what I thought was real mortality, fine as I walked the ground with sure footsteps. But my tree-trunk is shaken; I don't know what the world demands of me and why it does. You came barreling in at a speed that God himself would not have been able to stop.

It was an orgy of destruction, as I inhaled your toxic fumes and realized this new universe, where anything was possible. I see now that I had been living in a beautiful world, but a limited one. You introduced me to frightening new heights. I had been walking in a cool meadow, and you flew me higher on your gossamer-white wings. I stand now on a thunderhead, ready to fall any second, teetering on the edge of my existence, yet there exists none to give me a push into the unknown. You brought me to the cloud and left me there to fend for myself.

Have you been dreaming at all, since you destroyed the peace and crumpled my innocence? Because I have. I have been dreaming of a day when we can love as equals, not one as god and the other as mortal. It could have easily been you who has to point to the sky and say respectfully, "Quietly now, Mortal might hear you."

That might have been you.

But now us mortals, the unequal ones, must worship you...for what? Have we become slaves of this real Love? You did say so, somewhere, somehow, that it was time to let go and be ourselves. We followed your advice. I did, too, more than some.

You can take my heart.
You can destroy my body, if that is what you want.
But please, love...

Spare me my soul.

-Psyche

Learn more about this author, Cassandra Latisse.
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