Oh, Persephone. / Answer my calls, won’t you? / Or must I continue chanting your name, / With my hands pressed to the soil, / With my eyes digging through the vermillion cracks on the floor, / Persephone, do you love me still?
i am my mother's child, my father's daughter. i am their creation, forever indebted to those who created me out of a sin. a sin, atoned by the notion of love.
Oh, Persephone. / Answer my calls, won’t you? / Or must I continue chanting your name, / With my hands pressed to the soil, / With my eyes digging through the vermillion cracks on the floor, / Persephone, do you love me still?
The words are ready to spill from his lips after his last few seconds of wasted breaths are gone, the blade digging into his skin. He loves her. He declares it, eyes blanking out as he sinks to the floor and she stares. If this is love, she is terrified.
Bluebell baby, they cradled me to their chests and whispered prophecies (I could never fulfil) into my ear in the hopes that I would be something they could boast of.
i am my mother's child, my father's daughter. i am their creation, forever indebted to those who created me out of a sin. a sin, atoned by the notion of love.
Bluebell baby, they cradled me to their chests and whispered prophecies (I could never fulfil) into my ear in the hopes that I would be something they could boast of.
i am my mother's child, my father's daughter. i am their creation, forever indebted to those who created me out of a sin. a sin, atoned by the notion of love.
We were a triad,Split and glued back together by poor effort,Chipped pieces stuck to each other in the wrong placesTo form a whole of what was there before, gone now.
Oh, Persephone. / Answer my calls, won’t you? / Or must I continue chanting your name, / With my hands pressed to the soil, / With my eyes digging through the vermillion cracks on the floor, / Persephone, do you love me still?