riptide | poetry

1. eros & psyche

Eros's an Eden-fallen angel, made of heaven's light and hell's fire. Eros is torn wings and bruised-kissed knuckles, lavender comets blooming on pale skin. Eros is burnt stars and rotting roses, remnants of unrequited love. Eros is angel paint streaked with blood, scarlet drops on a canvas made of jersey lily clouds.

Eros is a whirlwind of dark hair and ever-shifting eyes that burst with supernovas, a god who the skies bow down to.

(If you think that love is tender and healing, think again. Love is a riptide that pulls you in, a magnetic force that breaks heartstrings and wreaks havoc. Eros shoots with a bow and arrow, love's bound to hurt you from the start.)

The god of love and desire is not kind, but rather the scion of Chaos himself. He is feared by the gods, a monster whom neither gods nor men could defeat.

Psyche's a contrast to what Eros is, a Michelangelo-sculpted maiden made of lilacs and cherry blossoms.

Psyche's a maiden painted with pearl and golden hues (Picasso would cower in envy at the sight of her), voice laced with honey and silk. Bright stars adorn her eyes, the colour of deep amethyst shimmering under the moonlight. (The colour of sunlit lilac bushes, the last few seconds of a Neuschwanstein sunset.) She sings heavenly melodies, voice to rival Orpheus himself and beauty to rival Aphrodite. Every mortal and god would weep at the sound of her voice, weep over her beauty.

Every inch of her is painted with angelic grace, a masterpiece to rival the Sistine Chapel. Psyche's empyrean, and it's no wonder the gods blessed her with immortality.

Together, they form a cacophony of chaos, a mélange of love and destruction. They are the living epitome of A Midsummer's Night Dream- for love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

✧･ﾟ:*

ya boi's finally back from their writing hiatus x