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Hades and Persephone have a fight

He’d start by telling her she was beautiful.

She’d laugh in Old Fashioned and

His throat would burn at the bitter taste of it.

“You’re used to pain, and I am no exception,”

Is what she would say.

She’d hide the corners of her mouth from him

They lived in a house made of only walls

Half of the years were quiet

The other half sounded like crunching glass

She was the one

Who taught him how to dance.

They both hurt

In that needy kind of way

If she turned away from him she’d know

That hell would freeze over.

He’d try again.

“I’m sorry that this is the way I am,” he’d say

And turn his pockets inside out looking for the sunshine

She hid in them on days when she knew he needed it most

Like burning coals

He was always freezing.


He had never yearned before.

She wouldn’t look at him

And so he turned the house into a hall of mirrors.

He’d think himself a failure and secretly

She’d shatter watching him.

She was good at hiding the pain.

He was good at seeing it anyway.

The nights were cold

But winter there always was.

They both kept the fireplace on at night

When the other wasn’t home.

He’d think she was a miracle

That he was fortunate enough to bear witness to.

She’d think him a conundrum

But her favorite kind to solve.

Time would laugh at them both

Because like them, the seasons were inevitable.

He’d speak until his tongue burned

And eventually, she'd show him the corners of her mouth.

The next day the house would be torn down completely

And all the glass mirrors shattered.

In the morning they would wake up

And dance atop a forest full of flowers.



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