A bit late! Prompt was to write a poem over several stanzas with a mythology theme.

With the door closed she could pretend

nobody else was there.  She’d never wanted

this – never asked for it.  They were all here:

Neptune. Hera. Poseidon. The rest.

Plaster smooth skin and white

teeth.  Expensive clothes and sculpted

faces. And Hades – over-familiar as ever –

making unpleasant jokes with her father

and looking at her to laugh.  It made her

bones ache. 

The rose garden is dark but the scent is

heavy.  She can sit here for as long as she

likes under Hecate’s moonlight and no one

can force her out of her own self. The tree

makes a protective shadow about her

and the breeze smells like spilled honey.

She shook her shoes off at the door and

tried for the stairs but they saw her. From

the corner he smiled at her, a salesman’s smile,

but she looked the other way.  The announcement

was presented like a gift, when in fact it was a

weapon. A dozen smooth faces turned to her.

A door slammed.