Oh little prince.
If only you had loved me back.

I saved you from the seas -
could you not tell?
Why did you believe the false princess?
I could not speak, but my dancing feet told a pretty story.

Oh little prince.
Do you know what happened next?
I died of a broken heart, quite literally.
I became the very same sea which almost took you.
You, my ruiner.

Oh little prince.
You should’ve stayed to watch.

They tell other stories of my birth.
In one, they say I was born of Ouranos,
bred from the blood and hate his son spilt.

Does that sound familiar?
Guess what gave me life.

Anger, fury, savagery, frenzy.

Do you now know why I’m the goddess of love?
(I prefer to think of it as heartbreak. Are they not synonyms?)
What good does love do?
Look at Ariadne. Look at Medea.
Hearts so wide they could encompass a whole sea, and for what?
Ares loves war for war itself, and look where the world is.

Do you know why I’m the goddess of love?
The world has not been good to me.
I want to watch it burn.