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IF THE OCEAN HAD DEPTHS AS LOW AS TARTARUS, I WOULD JUMP FROM THE TOP OF MOUNT OLYMPUS AND LET MY SINS STEAL THE AIR FROM MY LUNGS.
Because there is no excuse for what I did. You must know how sorry I am. The sick twisted feeling in my gut has me throwing up the remains of ambrosia and nectar.
Demeter, my friend, will you forgive this old sinner?
I know I paraded and trotted around your form with playfulness and candor. I bumped your hand with my horse nose and invited you to soak your feet in the shallow water.
But alas, I was carried away.
I could not stop myself.
And by then, you had turned yourself into a horse like me.
With those sultry green eyes like pastures and fluttering eyelashes like butterfly wings, I could not resist.
