Her Blood-Red Eyes

Galatea

I first lived as the marble he carved

Day and night until I was perfect.

He fell in love with my icy lips and frozen hair,

So when he fell to his knees in prayer

He prayed for me never to wake up and see him as he really was.

A bitter, twisted man with enough hate to rival Pandora's Box.

Every night he would kiss my stone cheek and ask if I would leave him,

If I could.

Could I?

Slowly my cold heart melted and thawed,

Until when he kissed me and begged me to leave him

I reached out and said that I could never.

It was then that he saw the rosy blush that covered my once-pale face and neck.

And he left.

Like Penelope, I waited.

But he never came back to me

Because I was more alive than he.