Maximoff.

 Oh! how refreshing seemed the breathing wind
 To her faint limbs! and while her snowy hands
 From her fair brow her golden hair unbind,
 And of her zone unloose the silken bands,
 More passing bright unveiled her beauty stands;
 For faultless was her form as beauty’s queen

“Mama,
 You could make everything but me grow and bloom and blossom.
 I always loved  things more when they were wounded, dying, dead.
 Do you remember, mama?
 I would crouch in the dirt with some pitiful wounded creature,
 Waiting and watching as it shuddered and squeaked and died.
 I buried them with my own hands, mud caking my hands.
 There are shadows you never saw in me, mama, but he does.
 He reaches for them and they reach for him and I am happy.
 When we kiss, I can taste pomegranate on his lips.
 It is bitter and red. I could drink and drink forever.
 Nothing about him scares me.
 I am the only one who can make him stop howling.
 He says he hears them all the time - the souls, mama -
 But I bring him peace.
 Who wouldn’t want such power?
 I used to bruise like petals as a child, but not anymore.
 I am his and he is mine and, mama,
 I am finally, finally mine.
 I’ll see you come spring.”

Voy a dedicar mi primer mención a [Tienes que estar registrado y conectado para ver este vínculo] porque es mi todo, sí, sí.

you were red
you liked me because i was blue
you touched me and suddendly i was a lilac sky
and you decided purple just wasn't for you.

Summer.
Concerto No.2 in g, Op.8.
Presto.

floating music,
 from a strummed harp,
 so beautiful,
 that it could convince a god to free a soul.
 affectionate hands,
 fueled by a love so strong,
 that they found their way to a hell,
 to get her back.

this is not your ordinary hero.

when he played,
 the flowers sprung up from the ground,
 and the love,
 was right at home in the world.

“don’t look back.”

temptation is the enemy of men and immortals alike,
 and it lends an easy pass,
 to no one,
 not even a hero.

in a split second,
 a love is ripped away again,
 for a second time,
 he is alone.

they have loved too strongly,
 they have convinced themselves,
 that they were,
 invincible.

 love makes fools out of heroes.