Eurydice

Tragic
they call me.
Lost, forgotten.
My snakebite heart
growing colder
by the second.
My gooseflesh skin
greying ugly in the dark.
So it goes. No matter.

What awaited me
in the land of the living?
His hand creeping starved
between my thighs?
The sweet stench of rot
choking itself in my hair?

Let me be honest here,
whisper my story in your ear.
Let me tell you
how I was silent as he turned,
how I never reached for him
as Death’s cold fingers
curled around my waist,
how I wanted him
to look back,
how I craved it
with all of my unbeating heart.

Let me tell you how I chose hell.

By Emily Palermo

Biography:

Emily Palermo is a nineteen-year old aspiring writer from Louisiana, where she is currently pursuing a degree in English Literature. Her greatest influences include Richard Siken and Margaret Atwood. In her free time, she likes to frequent coffee shops and bookstores, talk about her dog, and wax poetic about Vincent van Gogh. More of her work can be found at http://starredsoul.tumblr.com/