Persephone's sister- Tallulah

    Tallulah had dark hair, sometimes chestnut,  sometimes mousy;  all depending on her mood. Sometimes Tallulah was stunning.  Other times, shhe was chubby and smooshy. She was usually always a creature that looked like she tasted like apple butter and roses. She wore clothes that blew in the breeze. She walked like a birch tree, arms swaying,  hair full of birds' nests. She smiled at strangers making them believe that butterflies and puddles deserved the same reverence.
     She lived between worlds of great love and great loss. There was never just a day that flatlined. Her joy on good days spilled over filling fountains and watering the flowers.  Her bad days brought the darkest clouds and most heart breaking sobs. She was blessed with feelings. She was cursed. When she wasn't loved, she was broken pieces of concrete.  When she was loved, she was a ferris wheel.
      Tallulah was born curious about the world. She wanted to name each bug, follow every ant, and poke every bear. Nothing in the natural world intimidated her. She was the youngest of the three sisters and the most feral.  She was concoction of silky innocence and wild rage.
     

Persephone's sister -the unnamed

She wakes up to a stinging sensation.  Her pale chunky legs are exposed to the air, outside the protection of the blanket.  He is sitting beside of her, hairbrush poised above her calf. You're awake,  he says. And he smiles. Genuinely happy to see her. He brings the hairbrush down on her thigh this time. The feeling is like a thousand ants biting her, but at least it is a feeling.  He smiles.  There is one thin strand of hair the has landed on her face. He reaches down and tugs it out of her scalp. He smirks at her, his crooked grin. His eyes are bright and happy. He uses the hairbrush to trace her thigh, then tosses it down. He stares at her fir a moment without speaking then silently stands and leaves

Persephone's sister - the unnamed

He said he was coming. She stared out the window,  her dress was clean and flowing, although ripped in a few spots.   She was ready to put on her makeup as soon as she heard from him. But the day drew on and he ignored her. She began to sob. The same shaking ridiculous cry she did each time he didn't show up. She believed that one day he would.  One day he would miss her and crave her touch.  One day she would be important enough.
    The demon appeared and stood over her. Shut up, she said. The demon was beautiful.  Nothing like her. The demon had golden hair and a long braid down her back. She dressed in the best blue velvet and had deep eyes that saw into forever.  The demon pulled out her belt. I said shut up! She screamed and flailed the belt towards the open window. The pain matched the pain on the inside. I told you to stop being selfish.  I am so tired of your constant whining. You are so needy! Why can't you just SHUT UP? The belt flashed again. This time when it landed, the demon turned into him, her love. He stood above her shaking his head. Its unattractive to constantly beg for attention.  It only pushes me away. You're too needy, no fun. You know I can only take you in small increments.  The sound of your voice is like a tree branch that cant decide whether or not to crack.  The rolls of fat you have make eating anywhere near you impossible.  Maybe if you cut off some of that belly, I might like you more... he pulled an axe from thin air and suddenly swung. The laughter that filled the room was that of a woman. The demon took her original shape and smirked. Go die, you stupid cow. And dont wake me up again with that sniveling. The axe landed above he her head
    She laid by the window,  snot and tears mixing down her face.  I'm nothing,  she said.  I'm nothing to him. Not to anyone.  I never have been.
   The purple bruises started to appear already.  She pulled the ax down from the wall and pulled it across her leg. The blood ran. She pulled the axe to her chest and laid her head on her pillow and cried herself to sleep

Persephone's sister -the unnamed

He approaches her like a prison guard approaches a wounded inmate.  He is slow and cautious but posturing,  believing that she is faking. He is  ready to break his baton over  her  pale exposed neck if she moves the wrong way.
   He tells her that he is sorry for the way he treated her the day before.  He kneels and pushes her hair away from her face. Strands are stuck to her cheek from her inability to stop crying.  He puts an arm around her and she melts into him. Hey, he whispers, I don't want  for this to happen. It's just easy because you're worthless.  I wish I could make you something more than nothing,  but I cant.  I wish I could pretend that you're worth loving,  but you...I cant even bring myself to talk to you. You know how stupid you are right, babe? Do you understand, babe?
    She nods her head yes.
     Okay, he says. He removes her clothes and covers her mouth.  You have to be quiet he reminds her. No one can know. No one would understand why I'm with you, okay.
      She nods her head yes.
      I'm going to keep you right here okay, he asks her. That way I can come see you when I'm free. You stay here. You'll be safe here.  Nobody on the outside wants you. They'll only hurt you. So you stay right here, and I'll come see you and I'll be your whole world. Well pretend you're pretty, okay? Okay, babe? We'll pretend you're smart. And you can be important for a few minutes with me , okay?
     She nods her head yes

Persephone's sister -the unnamed

She is hideous. Her insides have slowly bled and seeped to inhabit her physical traits.  She is ugly beyond measure.  A disfigured alien face that could have only evolved from ignorance. A body in the shape of a blob. A soupy  gross figure that grew out of greed. A soulless stupid disposable thing that can't be considered female.  Unlovable and unloved.  Unwanted by men, made fun of by women.  She is paying for her sins through her physical molting. Karma will keep her crying and alone. Death will not have her. She cannot be hit hard enough to enjoy  touch. She cannot be cut deep enough to bleed. No mirror will stand her. No reasonable life will tolerate her. She is worthless.  No kindness can be found in her heart, no empathy exists in her fingertips.  She is bitter and lonely,  and those things have consumed her. She is a reflection of trash and roadkill.  She is a waste. She is nothing.  She brings bile to men's throats and causes children to stare. She is a walking self inflicted scar.

I am breaking I am broken I am shaking I am worthless I am woman
I am golden I am harmful I am aching I am charmful I am breathing
I am tired I am wired I am glistening Full of child I am holding
I am longing I am frozen I am cherished I am brazen I am  solid
She is falling, she has fallen, she is never ending sorrow. She is happy.

quantum love

      And so they meet. The universe deciding that she needs to be reminded of who she is, fast tracks him into her life. They barely shake hands and "nice to meet you" before he kisses her. He has kissed her so many times before. He doesn't ask for permission. She belonged to him many years ago. She is Bathsheba. She is  Isolde.  She fits into him like a puzzle piece, no uncomfortable position. They rekindle the love that they lost even before the pyramids were built. Their entanglement not even a mystery. Just a bond. In their past life together, she would sit at his feet as he would read aloud to her. He would kiss her forehead as she sweated through childbirth. He was more than a lover. More than a husband. The atoms that they share pull like magnets. Her shadow. She is his sin. He is her church. The universe ponders the power. The fireworks, the neediness, the forgiving. The couple reemerging.
   And in parting, a black hole is ripped through her torso. A heavy ache that results in a spewing of hot tears. Desperate tears. Begging tears. And he is empty. And she is purging.  And the universe, although aching with her, knows that time is everlasting. If only lovers understood how soon they will meet again. Funny how  they commit acts of suicide in an effort to speed up their next meeting; desperate to be given a chance at a new beginning.
   He will see her soon enough. Maybe not next week when she falls down the stairs. Maybe not next year when she is walking through Soho and a man with a gun steps out of the shadows. Maybe not in 20 years when her kids sit around her eating ice cream while she slips into the ether....but he will see her. They will stand on another battlefield as she lobs arrows and insults. He will read her a different book by a different fireplace. She will melt into him each night and be made whole again.  Her Porthos, holder of her atoms.