Pomegranate Kisses
Happiness is the taste of pomegranate kisses. Their lingering sweetness carries the world away. She is led in a head-spinning dance; her feet race to keep up to the quick rhythm of the music. This is her addiction, she can barely think, she is shrouded in confusion.
She cannot live without it, and she weighs her choices with an unsteady hand.
Her partner's lips press hotly against the back of her neck and her knees go weak. She gasps with the force of want, her eyes cannot focus on anything but the red fruit, she is entranced by its intoxicating smell.
He offers to let her go. The idea frightens her. She once thought of freedom as flying, but now she thinks that it is truly falling; only cleverly disguised. She wonders how she was ever fooled.
She is torn, and thinks that she can only ever be half satisfied. She remembers that she used fear dependency, before her friends, before Artemis. She briefly ponders as to whether or not she has lost something, does she now lack individuality? Does it even matter?
She can't regret it. She can't regret anything.
She briefly considers life without him, and closes her eyes to the ache she feels. Her heart longs for home. She is being torn apart, pulled in two different directions. She sobs, knowing which one she has to choose.
Despair is the taste of pomegranate kisses. Their lingering sweetness carries the world away. She watches it go through blurry eyes, regretting the ropes that tie her here. She cries as the summer waxes and wanes. The cold settles itself upon the earth.
She cannot pull away. Red juice stains her lips and fingers, marking her as a damnable outcast.
She feels disapproval radiating from the pores of her homeland. She takes comfort in the fact that the ones she cares most about feel differently. At least, she thinks, she does not have to lose them, even if she must lose everything else.
As her season drifts away she prepares to move from one form of misery to another, shifting shades of bliss.
She closes her eyes and savours the taste of the humid air.
Wanting and wishing she steels herself to face her choice. She will remain a bridge between worlds forever. She returns to her lover as the leaves die.
The taste of pomegranate lingers on her tongue, and she cannot turn back.
oO0Oo
AN: I wrote this months ago. I can't even remember it, really. But someone mentioned it to me again, and I thought that I would post it here. It's not really much of a piece. So feel free to tear it apart. Reviews are loved muchly.