
Ariadne of Crete
His feet leave their mark on the soft sand as I wait, frozen still. Every move is a dangerous dance of the unknown, and I can’t seem to bring myself to move a toe in the wake of his arrival. My eyes stare, rapt with attention, as a dull ache begins to blossom behind my brow.
It should be impossible but there he walks through the surf I thought sure he’d forgotten. My lungs feel close to collapse as I try to make sense of the sight of Theseus, returning to my side.
For days I’ve wept and yelled
It should be impossible but there he walks through the surf I thought sure he’d forgotten. My lungs feel close to collapse as I try to make sense of the sight of Theseus, returning to my side.
For days I’ve wept and yelled