HE'S PAINTED WITH GOLDEN HUES
BLOOD DRIPPING WITH ICHOR
VOICE LACED WITH HONEY AND SILK
BRIGHT STARS ADORNING HIS EYES
HE SINGS HEAVENLY MELODIES
VOICE TO RIVAL ORPHEUS HIMSELF
AND THE GODS WOULD WEEP
OVER THE SOUND OF HIS VOICE
— unfortunately, i am not his eurydice.
✧･ﾟ:*
if my wife died and i got a chance to get her back by walking out of the underworld without looking back, i would simply not turn around. rip to orpheus but i'm different
i forgot who this was about but we move
YOU ARE READING
riptide | poetry
PoetryCupid shoots with a bow and arrow, some loves are bound to hurt you from the start. [ A collection of poems. ] [ Previous covers by @gauriwrites and @latejune ]
