He held my prize in his hand.

Three letters, spelling out his name

He had written them countless times before.

My fingers itched for that name

Plastered in sharpie across his picture.

But he hesitated, holding it just out of my reach

And his eyes searched until they found mine

And there he held me captive.

The words that so often pooled behind my lips,

Waiting only for me to lower the dam,

Had lost their way and abandoned me.

I was left to my own devices

And I stood defenseless before him

He was Zeus. He was Ra.

And I had nothing to offer but my heart

Beating hysterically on the golden alter.

The moments crept through the sands of time

And after many hours my offering was accepted

In exchange for a smile and an apology

Yet my trophy was still withheld

A few trivial words later,

And those eyes set me free

My prize, his name, was in my hand and on my soul

And I only looked back once.