I loved you when I buried you in my heart like a seed that would somehow grow. A peach tree never seems to mature in the shade of its parents though. I am happy to hear that you did not look upon my brutal honesty as shady. Living in a shadow of fiction, in fact, is bound to make a body angry. Even if it is a heavenly body named by the Romans, using a god stolen from the Greeks. How could we not be wounded by Cupid's arrow if we understood what erotic love seeks? Maybe you were not my first and I will not be your last, as in the bibical genesis of Adam and Eve. Perhaps I will be moved by the bird of paradise, and learn myths, that will always remain true to me, which I believe
