i know it hurts sometimes; perse

[perse]

i wanted pomegranates— i wanted darkness— i wanted him. Real. Real is His lair, a labyrinth of stone and fire. Real is the chuffing breaths of the hellhounds as they circle around their master’s hooves. Real is Him, the gray of stormclouds woven across His back. Real is all the ways she was made to burn. (Real is the way she always asked for more.) This reality – where she is alone, where there is no lair, no fire scorched hot across her skin – feels pale in comparison, like a photograph long left in the sun. She knows there was a family before Him, she knows their names. She knows they are fools, but she feels a mild fondness for them nonetheless, her progenitors. (More, she misses her brother, her twin – together, they knew stars and centuries.) But ultimately they are so weak, mewling and crawling back to one another with poison still glistening on their lips, ready to kiss again, to infect each other again. It’s bewildering and foolish and Perse cannot grasp such a thing. She wants for a moment to toy with her – her mother seems such an easy target, the weakness like a halo about her. But in the end, she must still love her. In the end, she answers only, “yes, of course I’m real.” p e r s e ------------------------------cordis x spyndle