You there,
gorgon sister,
slew venom
from your
writhing coiffe,
regurgitate bitter fate,
spit at my eyes.
You skulk
through putrid
passage
ways
in a death struggle,
unwilling
to bare your neck
fighting romance
as Medusa did.
You prefer
shadow attacks
believing
your cold stone
legacy
can sever
my soul
before I realize
the strike.
Victory is
your genetic
material
festering
in my DNA,
imbuing me
with a bite
to rival
Cerberus,
the instinct
that severs
your hand
with razor
precision.
Your seething nature
has not
rooted
in my spine,
but travels
in flash floods
through the
gulleys
of scars
you=ve left.
To your
triumph
I am no
throne chaser
no
fainting maid.
I am
a battle
on foot
as sure as
your hell hound.
I am
defiance
lodged in
your shriveled
gullet.
I am a
distilled romantic.
I am a
titan
with faith.