hi, i'm rach. i collect pretty things.

places i've been.
alaska
bangkok
malaysia
perth
singapore
vancouver

film is not dead.
Reblogged from 5000letters  2,591 notes

You found me, mouth like a pomegranate
picking flowers in my mother’s field.
An invitation of sorts.
You took it as one and spent five months
thinking about slipping your fingers into my mouth.
I think the Earth changed the day we met,
It had been waiting for you to bare your teeth
and swallow me whole
It had been waiting for the cup of your palm
around my neck except you didn’t have to beg baby
you said “let me show you what flowers look like
from the earth up.”
and I said “yes, please. Show me your flowers,
show me your dead, show me your fingers.”
My mother warned me about gods like you,
hungry, greedy gods like you
all desire and no thought
all want and no logic
I was the same.
I skipped with you into hell
Artemis knows dragged, I know this:
I held my arms outwards and let you tie them
so softly that I asked what they were made of
and you said “prayers.”
We kissed at the entrance, open-mouthed
furious kisses
we kissed like we were starving,
kissed like the dead were crawling out of hell
I decorated your dark with flowers
and sat on your lap and fed you petals.
It makes me burn when they say
“Hades stole Persephone.”

and I tell them “No.
I stole him.”

By Azra.T “Persephone”  (via 5000letters)