![medleypond:
“ BEAUTIES LEFT BEHIND ; a modern!myth mix | [one] ari (ariadne), the southern beauty with a heart as open & warm as her home, seduced & swindled by delicious con man teddy. / [two] nessa (clytemnestra), the army wife turned scarlet...](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d890ed6f7c1c45006531eded4f4b9ec0/tumblr_n2gca7xXEo1qcgc0jo1_400.jpg)
BEAUTIES LEFT BEHIND ; a modern!myth mix | [one] ari (ariadne), the southern beauty with a heart as open & warm as her home, seduced & swindled by delicious con man teddy. / [two] nessa (clytemnestra), the army wife turned scarlet murderess, crazed with grief for her dead baby girl. / [three] penny (penelope), pining for the husband whose body was never found overseas, plagued by new courters. [four songs each]
i. broken chariot - cocorosie | ii. ribbons - ingrid michaelson | iii. dead in the water - ellie goulding | iv. better off - haim | v. crown on the ground - sleigh bells | vi. the beast - laura marling | vii. my song 5 - haim | viii. poison apple - charlene kaye | ix. wings - birdy | x. winter - daughter | xi. ghost - sir sly | xii. gravediggress - cocorosie
CRACKED ARMOR ; a modern!myth mix | annabelle (athena): struck young by the absurdity of the either-or, relishes the back lot fights that rush blood to knuckles, but wears vulnerability like a close-knit sweater. eventually learns to play sharp as the boot-hidden blade, and revel in the bothness of sharp cheekbones and short hair. [accompanying poem]
i. annabelle - liz longley | ii. soldier - ingrid michaelson | iii. to be a woman - laura marling | iv. hercules - sara bareilles | v. flaws - bastille | vi. human - gabrielle aplin | vii. tiptoe - imagine dragons | viii. tempest - amaluna (cirque du soleil) | ix. girls chase boys - ingrid michaelson | x. angel of small death and the codeine scene - hozier
The night has a pulse, and he
is what makes it race.
Streaming light and booming bass,
he likes to watch this world shake.
He only ever dresses in shades of bruise,
black and blue, purple too —
he won’t admit he’s still convinced
that lends him an ancient royalty
none of these sinuous sweating souls
could ever dream.
Because they are all under his thumb,
the lonely, fucked-up dancing ones;
they tuck the moon under their tongues,
don’t care whether they ever see dawn come.
And he will drink from all their shattered cups,
accept no less than raving splendor,
wine and blood-soaked surrender
until the sun comes up.
I.
Ari, plump lips ever plumper from a busy night
hair mussed after his hands,
cries aghast
at the sight of the empty half of the motel bed.
Her wallet, 18-karat bracelet and pride
are missing from the nightstand.
She, with her Southern hospitality,
fell for the sting.
But it’s her heart that swells.
II.
Nessa is haunted by her little girl’s laugh,
echoing round her too-big house,
at odds with the shrieks
of her last burning moments.
When her husband comes home from deployment,
she takes one look at the hands
that did not open the smoking doorway in time,
smiles sweetly.
The red homecoming carpet, well,
his arteries provide that.
III.
Penny buries herself in yarn,
pokes holes in her hope with her needles,
tries not to think about how many Bobs and Jacks and Jerrys
will be at the bereavement group.
Penny always brings her knitting.
The widowers always lie.
She always thinks he’ll come back.