“Why are you here?” asked the quiet voice in the dark
To the pale and ropey arms still outstretched
The Lover, still yearning for embrace
The slings and arrows
A wine cup blackened by poison
Hair tangled and salt-stained by gale and tears
Yet he is there still.
“The mortal heart may storm and rage.
As it will. As it must.
These are the dancing grounds,
Made for frenzy.
You cannot crush water
A single drop of poison cannot taint the Sea
My wine cup is bottomless
My body was torn by Titans and burned by Holy Fire,
Long before you drew breath.
If you loved, or if you hated,
If ever you loved or hated me,
Then I am yours,
Because passion is mine.”