Medea II / MythAnna Maria Hong
Hated you for leaving when things got good. Hated you for making it bull-fucking tough. You left me high: I am Icarus catching wax off my wings. I am Pasiphäe partitioned in the labyrinth of lust. Daedalus dangles his string, and you are no one to be seen. You’re a paltry, picked- over thing. A cyclops with two eyes green: one patched to the past, the other fixed to a future that will not be. You did not see me. I was the spear and anchor of your monodic scheme. My anger was your succor. My ichor runneth over the dead of us.
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