Crooked songs and bleed dry the tune, how endless is eternity.
The smell of soot and morning rain, a bittersweet eternity.
In the cusp of her palms, there is a pomegranate.
“With this”, He croons to her, “You can have eternity.”
She falls, and like the earth in winter, she is barren.
Watching her mother birth nations,
She yearns for her own eternity.
Flowers bloom where her steps have been, where fear &
shadows cannot touch. Farewell, he mouths.
Spring lasts an eternity.
Vines creep up the window pane, almost cautious,
But they rot at the press of his fingers. If only this were not eternity.
December comes, goes, and with it? Loneliness.
For her, he would wait an eternity.
Persephone smiles into his lips, ignores the weeds
Blooming in his teeth, and counts down until
The end of eternity.