Persephone’s blood

Your gaze, a dagger, cuts through me, 
I'm the rotten pinked flesh upon the butcher's hook.
Flies swarm, craving Chanel rouge strawberries and pale yellow seeds, 
But find only seeping plasma wounds and restless dreams.
Your look, a death knell, pronounced me gone,
As if I were already among the departed.
Persephone's blood stains glistening snow, 
Like crushed maraschino cherries between pearly teeth.
I forgot I was stolen away,
Lost in your chilling stare,
I had been taken from myself.

Rusafa Rahat is a STEM student, IT intern, published poet, hopeless romantic, diplobrat, and illustrator currently residing in Vienna, Austria. You may find more of her work on @thornchapel on Instagram.