She thought he was her Dionysos,
And she his Ariadne.
Yet there was no sacred marraige.
There was no bond,
Only her love pouring fourth
And he taking it greedily.
Indeed he was her Theseus,
Leaving her for dead.
This was a rare gift indeed.
She opened like a flower in full bloom
Attempting to soak up sun, air, life
Two sides of a coin indeed
Dithyrambic and free.
No Dionysos, no Saint, no love.
breath quickening….how can this be happening?
tears, tears, more tears
just breathe.
count to five
gaze at the face that isn’t there
picture the amber eyes
touch of sadness, touch of love, touch of humility, touch of courage, touch of strength
softly ask him
“Why couldn’t you love me?”
Ariadne screams into the wind
which carries the sound and scatters it into thousands of pieces
Her gaze is wild
her skin caked with sand and salt
hair torn and matted
she screams for the ship
hoping he will turn back
But no, he is not her Dionysos
And she is simply
Ariadne Abandoned.
