demeter
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She speaks to me in seafoam.
Born beautiful, she kissed my eyelids and gave me her love of everything.
Her fingertips are callused from centuries of knotting heartstrings.
I rise up from my comfy sheets
Light peeks out from the curtains like a playful child
Almost like my little Persephone
I gather up my supplies
Since blossoming from the florid queen of death herself,there has always been an exquisite beauty in aesthetic variance.The floral goth contrast, the inharmonious perennial dance with darkness
Demeter is tired.
For she is in charge of balancing the harvest among the high temperatures
that humans cause.
We have been working her too hard;
when it is time for her to rest for the cold months,
She walks with confidence,
Her heels clicking with each step,
She blows a bubble as pink as her lips,
Her petticoat swishing side to side,
