You were still laughing from how the suitors wooed Sappho, lying in her room on a soft carpet and watching her beautiful pale face light up with a frown

She casually threw her manuscripts on the table and loomed over you, tying your hands in a tight interlocking of fingers, the smell of honey emanating from her mouth, which she drank before dinner

Sappho: What if I asked you to marry? Would you renounce our friendship?