I watch you, my love, my own, as I skulk in shadows, hiding from the heavy heat and sweetness in the flowered meadow of your Spring.

I watch the brightness of your eyes and the softness of your lips, wondering if they will wilt at my touch, if the blossom on your cheeks would turn to pale complexion and the color of your eyes drain and fill with the shadows of my hunger for you.

I watch, and wonder if you will be frightened of me, your father’s brother, one your mother so hates. Wonder if you will shy away from my pulseless grip, for I do not know how to touch gently, how to love without shadow and ice seeping into warm skin.

I wonder, will you tremble when my arms close around you at last, a lover’s cage come to take you away from all you hold dear on this fertile earth…

I do not want to steal you, Persephone. I must. I must have you. Forgive me.