The Myth

If you were the ocean

Or the turbulent sea

I would stand on the shores

Holding hands with Penelope

But you are not the ocean

And you are not the sea

While I stand on the cold shores

You do not come to me

If love was an arrow

And I was Daphne

I would run through the forest

Turning into a laurel tree

But love is not an arrow

And I am not Daphne

Escaping  Eros’ false love

You still don’t care to see

If you were a cracked wall

And I was on my knee

I would fall on my sword

United with sweet Thisbe

But you are not a cracked wall

Yet I am on my knee

I have fallen on my sharp blade

And we are still not meant to be