Does He Really Love Me? by Celtic Cabbit

Red sweet wine,
Strawberries sweetened with time,
My thoughts are not mine,
He tells me he loves me.

The heat of the night,
The feeling is right,
Does he really love me?

The flow of more wine,
The passing of time,
The removal of what’s mine,
He tells me he loves me.

Alone in the night,
Questioning what’s right,
Does he really love me?

To much wine,
Not enough time,
I want to keep what’s mine,
He tells me he loves me.

So dark is the night,
It no longer feels right,
Does he really love me?

Please no more wine,
Please not this time,
Please don’t take what’s mine,
He tells me he loves me.

I want to flee into the night,
What you are doing isn’t right,
Does he really love me?

No more wine,
Not this time,
The choice is not mine,
He tells me he loves me.

He tells me to keep secret this night,
He tells me it’s alright,
After all...
He told me he loved me.

But a feather on my window,
Considering things over and over.
I feel his breath upon the windowsill,
Warming the glass from the outside.

Tomorrow is a new day.
But I keep hearing, again and again:
That laugh he had–
The squeak of a rusty turntable.

The past is yesterday, but I long for tomorrow.
If only he didn't carry me back.
There's a singular croak,
And the bird left it there for me.

A single feather, shimmering as gold,
But blue as his eyes.
I would love to have him,
But the deeds you cannot repair...

For something says I would have loved him
If it were not dark, and I to suspect loneliness.
If he had not pinned me to my spot,
He could have asked. If only, if only.

He took what he could not give back,
And me in tears at the terrible thought.
But my fear is when I close my eyes
I see his face, that awful grin.

I lift the window, take the feather,
Tuck it tight into my bag.
And I walk the lonely hour,
To this spot, forsaken in the cold.

And as I watch the feather floating,
Descending lower to the waters,
I place my hands upon the bridge
Considering a decent of my own.

You know my story.
The story of a monster,
a gorgon,
a villain who must be slain.
Did you ever ask
why?
Why must a woman
have her head hacked off
and presented as a trophy?
I'll tell you why.

Long ago I was beautiful,
I made all maidens jealous
of my delicate cheek,
my waving locks,
but I couldn't stop
the God of the Sea
from seducing my
young mind.

There in Athena's temple
I was assaulted,
violated,
my innocence stolen
by a man who many view
as a respectable God.
I was impregnated
against my will, but upon
discovery I was labeled
as the one who had
desecrated Athena's
sacred building.

As punishment by
Athena herself
I had my hair turned into snakes
and my gaze became my weapon.
Never again could I
lock eyes with friend, family or
future lover without
turning them into
a statue of stone.

Ashamed, I hid away
in a cave
where I could do no more damage
unless an unfortunate wanderer
entered my cavern.
I was forced to be a foe
due to my scars and solitude;
how could I be a kind
maiden when my looks could kill
and my story was twisted?

But my isolation could not protect me
as I was hunted down by a warrior
who chopped of my head
and presented it as if it were
a trophy.
Nobody cried or mourned me;
instead the murder of a pregnant
woman was something
worth celebrating.

So when you read your history books
and read the myth of
Medusa the Gorgon,
remember that I was just an ordinary woman
who was violated and blamed
for being a victim,
assaulted by a God many children
appreciate and love.
I was made a monster by the Gods
you see as heroes.

But I know I'm not the only woman
who has been made into a Gorgon
by a man's brutal lust.
There are thousands of Gorgons,
much like I,
who hide in caves
and become hateful monsters.
It's too late now to go inside
their lair
and offer your help;
to them you're just another
threat who will become
part of their
collection of
stone statues.