Dear ghost,
Revive me as Persephone for the love of his cold dark hands, which will so desperately grip my frail ankle and drag me into his forsaken netherworld. Allow me to utterly grieve the loss of my spring and starve in despair at his courtship. Let me be so famished that I crawl to ravenously swallow the forbidden fruit of his tartarus. Then, chain half of my year to his darkness and let the other half bathe in the light. So that he may never betray me, unlike his promiscuous brothers.
Yours forevermore.