Phoebus

A poem by Artemis, regarding her brother.

My sweet dear Phoebus,
You, jealous soul!
Orian's no demon,
There's nothing he stole!

My soul's in place
My heart's intact,
But there is no space
For your act.

You know he's nice,
But you're too protective
Though that's suffice,
I'm not primitive.

If I love, I love,
But it'd be a first.
I'm no Aphrodite's dove,
And view love as a curse.

There's nothing you can do,
I'm in charge of him.
If it turns out to be a coo
The Furies, he can't outswim.

My sweet dear Phoebus,
I love you so.
But Orian's for us,
And you wouldn't go so low.