Over your bare shoulders swirls the music
Of the club: fierce and endlessly spinning
Into the abyss of last night’s faded dreams;
You paint your lips with a warrior’s blood
And dance among the mortal men, laughing,
As you so love to do, my lovely queen.
They know not of your true identity,
For if they did, they would crawl at your feet,
And you do not ask that: you ask for love,
For laughter; for that which is truly yours.
I know you, though, my goddess: from the curve
Of those dripping red lips to the shadows
That spread from your shoulders like hazy wings.
I honour you not through supplication,
As a slave might crawl to his cruel master,
But with open arms: I laugh much harder
And I smile and dance when no one is there;
This I do for you, my darling goddess;
My queen in all things; most lovely mistress.
I would give to you my body and soul,
For it is already yours: I belong
To you, my rose queen, and I always have.
[Laria is a Hellenic Polytheist, and has been so since roughly June of 2009. She pays particular devotion to the gods Aphrodite-Ananke, Ares and Rhea-Kybele, among others. She have been writing — both fiction and poetry — for five or six years and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.]