They said
you were Aphrodite,
when they found your face washed upon the shore.

They saw the curve of your cheek
and the angle of your jaw,
and the curl of your hair,
and named you Venus,
named you Beauty,
named you Love.

They named you,
without listening to your lips,
without looking into your eyes,
without asking it of you.

They took your own name from you
and dropped a new one,
without waiting to see if your hands were outstretched,

as they always have,
as they always do,
not knowing what they lost
as they pretended to discover.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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