Descent

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, 
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” 
― Pablo Neruda

She occupied the space between heartbeats, the time between seconds. The moments in the dark when his thoughts were half coherent and dusky with sleep.

He caught her eye, a glimpse of mazarine, and saw her, saw into her. Beyond her eyes was a labyrinth, a mazelike network of thoughts and notes, and her movements were the tranquil hum of a cello, her smile like the keen of a violin.

He watched her alongside the angel, slipping from the room and back into it as smoothly as velvet, weaving around the crowds with a practiced grace. She moved lightly, was golden and rich, tinged with a heady darkness, like silver. Paradoxically enthralling.

She clearly did not belong here.

His wings shuddered when he caught her gaze again, and this time, she held it. He cast his eyes down but her eyes on him was like holding warm bronze to his skin, and he felt it like a burning.

She was gone again when he looked back, and the stirring in his blood, the sudden a consistent pump, faltered.

He felt as though he were tipping. He teetered on the edge of an abyss, filled with darkness and moonlight and whispers. And it was a longed-for descent, that ended with light and mazarine eyes.

Art by Candi

Text by Lucie MacAulay