they say he stole her,
as if Persephone were only something to be coveted
and not a goddess in her own right,
as if she were not as feared in their realm as he.
they say that he corrupted her,
that Hades’s flower wilted under the stench of his death
but they forget that Spring is rebirth,
that if anyone could be touched by the underworld and flourish,
that it would be her.
they say that he tricked her,
that she did not want to stay.
but they forget how the winter drags on,
how each year it creeps in sooner,
leaving bones aching for a hint of her warmth,
and it is not because he will not let her leave
it is because
she does not want to go.
“You know after I sent that kid to the hospital years ago they said I had an anger problem, but that’s not true. I was angry because of something else. Something I’d lost. Trying so hard since not to be angry got me all defenseless and I lost more, and more, and more… that’s not getting better. I want to be angry. When I ran home from college, on the bus I had this dream… or maybe I saw it out the window, last leaf on the tree finally blown off. I’m so scared all the time, and the fear hurts, feeling like everything is over… was over long before I got here, so long, hiding or trying to outrun this. I get it. This won’t stop until I die. But when I die I want it to hurt. When my friends leave, when I have to let go, when this entire town is wiped off the map, I want it to hurt. Bad. I want to lose. I want to get beaten up. I want to hold on until I’m thrown off and everything ends. And you know what? Until that happens I want to hope again and I want it to hurt. Because that means it meant something. It means I am… something, at least. Pretty amazing to be something at least.”
i. this cotton candy love where you are toothaches all over and she is the sweetest thing you’ve ever touched and your gums wont stop bleeding. it’s not everyday you meet someone with a sugar-cane heart and hands that only want to hold yours for hours instead of feeling you up.
ii. you think of her when you see pink but everything else you’ve ever loved has been dark red and smothering. she is lollipops and hard-candy you steal from convenience stores, she is vanilla perfume and glossy lips and a white smile and you are drowning in the after-taste.
iii. she puts three spoon-fulls of sugar into ice-cold water and tells you to drink, tells you it’ll make your heart soft again, teach you what it’s like to feel warm with love again. she doesn’t know how your insides are already rotting. she doesn’t know how you’ve swallowed ants in past loves and they’re starting to wake up again.
iv. its summer again and you’re worried she’s starting to melt. you’ve always been told that sweet things turn bad when it gets hot and these days your hands wont stop sweating. you’re too afraid to touch her and find all the soft pink residue under your nails, find parts of her in your hair and on your clothes and between your teeth. maybe there are some loves you’re never supposed to taste if it means she gets to stay sweet.
v. maybe there are some loves you’re never supposed to taste if it means you get to keep all your teeth.