In the darkness of the Underworld,
a faded hush fills the lungs of every soul.
Moonbeams light the way
for a little goddess to tiptoe alongside
purple Water Lilies and peachy pink Lotuses.

Persephone wrists and the curve of her neck
share the same pale hue as her inner thighs.

The Lord of the Dead watches her,
his daring little goddess, and
his concrete self control weakens again.
He might be damned to live without her.

On a shelf, in an office, deep in Tarturus,
Hades’ soul waits, a lone jellyfish,
barbed with stingers of loneliness and hate.

His pink little goddess of Spring could smell
his soul, like ripe plums and honeysuckle in
an August heat. Her teeth nibble on her bottom lip.

On tiptoes once more, she reaches for his soul.
She feels its’ fog of uncertainty. To be alone for so long.
To have waited for so long.
“But, I’m here now,” she whispers to
the inky blackness enclosed in hard glass.

Hades’ opens his arms upon her return,
she can’t help but leap into them.
Guiltily she shows him the jar-
together they mend the God of the Underworld.
“I was waiting for you too, you know?” she sighs into his lips.

Together they make a King and Queen.