Promises and Pomegranates (Monsters & Muses, #1)

by Sav R. Miller

A woman I scorned until I found myself blinded by a new obsession.

Dis, almost in a moment, saw her, prized her, took her: so swift as this, is love.

Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

How I’d drag her to the depths of hell but convince her she’d gone to heaven,

She gets too close, and suddenly I feel like I’ve ingested the sweetest, deadliest poison.

The chaos in his eyes sucks me in like an undercurrent, pulling me deeper into his dangerous waters. For a moment, I’d rather drown in them than resurface.

Was the first taste of ruin not enough for you? Do you still crave my darkness, little one?”

Maybe Hades was lonely too, and he brought Persephone to his realm because he knew she’d bring the light with her.

I don’t know how, but every time our lips meet, she tastes fucking divine, like a holy scripture written to absolve me of my sins, something sweet and succulent and entirely too pure for her own good.

Yet that’s what heartbreak feels like; it’s having someone reach into your chest and tear the organ from your body, except they don’t use any tools or care to make it a clean extraction. They yank and twist until it pops free, leaving all the broken muscle and tissue behind, veins spilling with nowhere else to pump into. It’s visceral, blinding pain that sparks in the wound and creeps outward, testing the waters to see how much you can take.

She’s only been gone for minutes, and all I can focus on is her absence.

I loved thee, though I told thee not, Right earlily and long, Thou wert my joy in every spot, My theme in every song.

I inhale deeply, trying to commit the smell of happiness to my memory: potential and sweetness wrapped in a tender little package, sometimes full of anguish and stains that muddy the journey but that bring you out whole on the other side.