Persephone, clutching the withering remains of flowers in her fist
was carried off in her torn and soiled robes into the recesses of the foreign underworld.
She had tried to weep and make a river that would quench the hollowness that faced her.
But all she had was the river Styx that wreaked of decaying dreams.
And then one day, a smile appeared, and carried with it a gentle soul.
He filled her heart that longed for words and ached to be touched the way humans are known to do.
And so she laid down as he fed her with mere seeds that tasted of ambrosia
With her eyes closed, she savored them, not knowing of the tears that fell as time slowly passed her by.