you are a masterpiece, baby;
fashioned to perfection
by the gods, who
took turns gauging
out their own eyes so
yours could shimmer like
silvered lightning and
your pupils could be stuffed
with their galaxies. stardust
runs slick through your veins
'cause the gods dragged a
xiphos 'cross their own skin
and bled to give it to you.
and your heart
belonged to thetis who
did not hesitate to tear it
out of her bosom 'cause
a mother's love knows
no limitations and your mind
was once athena's but she
tore her skull open
to fill yours with brilliance and
ingenuity and worlds no
mortal had ever seen.
baby, your skin was molded
to your bones by
the gods 'cause you
were a sculpture to them and
they crafted you
to perfection. and now
the gods sit and stare into
bleak nothing 'cause you
bear their eyes and athena can't
think anymore 'cause
you use her mind to ruminate and
the heart beating in your chest
leaves thetis empty,
but that's okay, baby,
because you are their favourite
work of art, and they
still smile, even though
they can't gaze upon you
in admiration anymore.
