> marina and the diamonds - teen idle
DIAMOND STREAMED DOWN their face, as they swung on the swing listlessly as if suspended in time.
Gods do not cry. Just as how the sun does not rise from the west and flowers bloom in spring, gods do not cry.
But they were, with those glassy eyes illuminated by the dim streetlights, with their sadness overwhelming out from the crevices of their eyes.
I joined them by the swing, jolting it to rock slowly. Dry winter nights like these were unmerciful, inching through my clothes to rub my mortal skin with its corpse-like cold.
"Why the tears?" I asked, breathing into my gloved hands to dispel the bite of the chilly draft.
"Every rainbow needs a little rain," They laughed—soft and desperate, with their tears dripping slowly down the cliff of their jaw.
"And a little sun," I added, wondering if humane rawness could really be so beautiful—and possible, for a god.
They hummed in reply, tilted their head to be drenched in the pale half-moon-light, their eyes closed, their lashes bleeding sliver on the edges.
"Would you like me to tell you something funny?" A grin danced on their lips as they asked, still facing the indigo sky.
"Go ahead."
"When you first met me to bargain," They slowly opened their eyes, darkness restless. "I thought you were an angel sent from above."
"I've been wishing for mortality for eons, every night before I went to sleep, every morning when I woke up to their cold mortal bodies."
"I'd always wished to die with them."
