I feel it running through my veins; Perse

[perse]

i wanted pomegranates— i wanted darkness— i wanted him. She still holds back the confession, keeps it inside her, because she will not spill herself in such a way. Joscelin stays close, warm and familiar against it, which only serves to stoke the pain, knowing this is a singular nostalgia, and not a shared kind. Light breaks across Joscelin’s body as she speaks – beautiful as a sunrise – and oh, it hurts. She doesn’t know how to spark memory back into the woman – she has no powers, nothing to help her, only the poor accounts of their previous meetings, the ones only she can recall. “You are,” she says – insists – because if anything’s constant, it’s that Joscelin is beautiful, light filling the cracks of her, eyes kind and shining. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all?” she asks, and perhaps she is desperate, now. She wonders what she could give to bring back her memories, wonders how they were lost, in the first place. And still, she touches her, still, she is pressed to her, silver to broken bay, wishing for any kind of magic, so that she could restore her, so that she might believe it when Perse next calls her beautiful. p e r s e ------------------------------cordis x spyndle