How to Love like a White Bird

Afrodite,

often naked with vulnerability and intimacy,

was easy of love.

She always gave her heart out in morsels.

As a child, she’d get mad at the moon for stealing the sun’s shine.

She loved puppies like a fox.

She loved rats like a python.

She loved love,

like a fool.

She stumbled upon heartbreak

and flung her body into its depths.

She loathed others who could hate,

often wishing to feel the disembodied emotion.

She didn’t understand.

She’d try to purse her lips,

ready to spew a wicked tongue;

the words would never leave.

She wanted them

to slide off her tongue

like hot honey.

She tried to flee love,

yet it always found her.

Relationships weren’t easy.

The honeyed stage always molded.

The spark, always drowned beneath fire.

She could only keep one man.

That includes her father.

Zeus,

even though his love was chilling.  

He was the first man she’d seen.

He was the last man to stay.

She knew of this “man’s world”.

It swallowed women like her.

Often fooling them that they’d compelled it.

Only to find out it seduced them.

She remembered her naivety to heartbreak.

How great it was to be oblivious.

How joyous the breath of ignorance felt.

She’d held out her hands for the earth,

only to find she’d held the ocean.

She never wished to be this.

True, she admired her gilded heart.

She loved her hypnotic pulchritude.

She lured men, like a siren.

She was a southern belle.

A beloved bombshell.

A dovelike beaut.

She was the rose without thorns.

Unable to protect herself from curious strangers.

She had no rough exterior.

She was soft and fragile.

She was the flesh of a grapefruit.

She was the moistness in soil.

She was a cloud of the sky.