I feel it running through my veins; Perse

[perse]

i wanted pomegranates— i wanted darkness— i wanted him. ”You know me? The question is uttered with such innocence, such genuine confusion as Joscelin’s eyes meet hers. They are empty of recognition, and something in Perse shatters, something she didn’t know was there, a deep hurt. She must have imagined it, then, fabricated how electricity had thudded in her veins as she traced the cracks of her, an infatuation budding and blooming, words exchanged – And now, she’s nothing but an empty stare and no recognition. Nothing memorable. “Yes,” she says, “I know you. Or, I knew you, once.” She should turn, she knows – cut it off clean, an excision of her hurt. Staying will only prolong her pain, watching the shattered woman. But she can’t. She’s frozen to the ground, still fixated by her, the woman who had haunted her thoughts. So she stays, and she holds her breath when Joscelin creeps closer, the space between them shrinking. She is so tempted to touch her, to trace the same cracks of her skin. She keeps to herself, body held tight, like an arrow strung in a quiver. Something else twists inside her when Joscelin speaks again, an echo of another meeting. “Perse,” she says, and her voice is small, giving only her name and not the slew of questions she longs to ask. And still, she doesn’t leave. p e r s e ------------------------------cordis x spyndle