I don't actually care whether my entry places this week.  I tried to speak, I tried to cry and these feeble words are all that came out:
I don’t want this feeling.
Smoky eyes betray the burning heart within my chest.
Fire, she’s coming down on her own now.
The song echoes through my head.
Each morning when I bathed, Apollo came to the well and listened to my sweet song.
Today my trembling voice offers only a dirge.
Sweet Artemis covers his face.
A moment’s respite from Apollo’s searing gaze.
The reprieve expires and daylight lays bare my brokenness.
My time has come.
A thousand years is not enough to forget her face.
Flaming droplets from my eyes set my bed to kindling.
Tell me it is more than a myth.
Accept this offering Apollo that in the morning, I may be reborn.

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