You keep your head above the clouds,
Never short enough to smell the roses.
Instead, you stomp through a cursed garden,
With the spoils of war,
Disrespecting Demeter,
Without watering its soil.
I prefer orange blossoms to roses,
Fragrant winters to compliment aromatic thorns,
With towering branches above the height of a pathetic bush,
Whose cascading fruit crush the soft grace of its pale petals.
Now, there are no littered flowers to cushion bruised oranges.
A citrus once so sweet, just as sour.
Continue to hold your nose high,
Blindly tear through the food for sorrow.
Once it is summer and the trees are sparse,
Impale yourself with my gift,
And let your blood color the anemones at my roots.
Tragic names have even more tragic endings.
I am Persephone and you were Venus's Adonis.
YOU ARE READING
An Ode to Muses to Kleio
PoetryThis poetry collection explores love, lust, betrayal, and a dash of rage. Bonus points if you're a Greek mythology fan! Written from a female perspective, it goes through the motions of complicated relationships, cheating, longing, and moments of pa...
