Forgive me, Hera, I’ve stolen him again,
He came to me with muscles of stone and luxurious hair growing far past his chin.
I didn’t want him, no wait that’s a lie.
I tried not to want him but he had a visage that would make you cry.
Yes, that’s right, cry and moan, my knees would tremble as I begged for his mercy.
The way his eyes bore into mine made me question my morals with uncertainty.
Oh, the passion! The longing! Those sensual words that would tumble from his lips,
He’d whisper intensely in my ear and tell me all the things he would do to me if I were his.
Forgive me, Hera, I know he’s yours,
The last thing I want to be is another one of his simple mortal whores.
But what am I to do when his fingers caress me with a touch as soft as silk?
My mind I considered to be of good faith betrays me and leaves me with guilt.
It’s a game of wanting, this I know, with such undeniable pulverizing heartache,
When I sleep, I see him, our bodies conjoined, this is real it’s something my senses cannot shake.
Now here I am, gripping the Earth, imploring my head to stop its lustful spin,
But he’s already coming toward me, this god of a man, who knows I’ll obey his every whim.
Forgive me, Hera, falling for him was never part of the plan,
But please, for once, could you blame him just a little? For the rest of us are only human.