{"id":52296,"date":"2019-06-22T18:32:05","date_gmt":"2019-06-22T22:32:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=52296"},"modified":"2019-06-22T19:10:45","modified_gmt":"2019-06-22T23:10:45","slug":"a-queen-for-a-king","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2019\/06\/a-queen-for-a-king\/","title":{"rendered":"A Queen for a King (hour 10)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">In the darkness of the Underworld,<br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">a faded <strong>hush<\/strong> fills the lungs of every soul.<br \/>\n<\/span><strong>Moonbeams<\/strong> light the way<br \/>\nfor a little goddess to tiptoe alongside<br \/>\npurple Water Lilies and peachy pink Lotuses.<\/p>\n<p>Persephone wrists and the curve of her neck<br \/>\nshare the same pale hue as her inner thighs.<\/p>\n<p>The Lord of the Dead watches her,<br \/>\nhis daring little goddess, and<br \/>\nhis concrete self control weakens again.<br \/>\nHe might be <strong>damned<\/strong> to live without her.<\/p>\n<p>On a<strong> shelf<\/strong>, in an office, deep in Tarturus,<br \/>\nHades\u2019 soul waits, a lone jellyfish,<br \/>\nbarbed with stingers of loneliness and hate.<\/p>\n<p>His pink little goddess of Spring could smell<br \/>\nhis soul, like ripe plums and honeysuckle in<br \/>\nan August heat. Her teeth nibble on her bottom lip.<\/p>\n<p>On tiptoes once more, she reaches for his soul.<br \/>\nShe feels its\u2019<strong> fog<\/strong> of uncertainty. To be alone for so long.<br \/>\nTo have waited for so long.<br \/>\n\u201cBut, I\u2019m here now,\u201d she whispers to<br \/>\nthe inky blackness enclosed in hard glass.<\/p>\n<p>Hades\u2019 opens his arms upon her return,<br \/>\nshe can\u2019t help but leap into them.<br \/>\nGuiltily she shows him the jar-<br \/>\ntogether they mend the God of the Underworld.<br \/>\n\u201cI was waiting for you too, you know?\u201d she sighs into his lips.<\/p>\n<p>Together they make a King and Queen.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>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&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1302,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,12,1136],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-52296","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-musings","category-official-marathon-prompts"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52296","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1302"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=52296"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52296\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":52688,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52296\/revisions\/52688"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=52296"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=52296"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=52296"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}