We meet on a streetcorner in the pouring rain. You're having troubles with your lover again, and when you look at me with those drowning eyes I can't help but agree to listen.

I am the goddess of love, after all. I'm supposed to understand these things. But what I'll never tell you is that I am drowning too. Just because I am strong and wise and beautiful enough to deal with matters of love doesn't mean that I want to. I don't like having it thrown in my face that there are people that are "too good for you" but you love them anyway. And what am I? I commiserate, I hold your hand.

You don't love me, and I won't let you see the tears that knowledge causes.