Notes on a painted mental canvas:
She’s hungry and rapacious, combining to seek the right one in her life. She believes in Love, but has a Disney’s eye narrow vision of it. Sometimes she acts spun around as if a car has hit her.
The Jealous One has mastered the art of patience in an impatient world. Her extended family are far worse than her at this. And yet . . . would you but give her the powers, and she would lunge
X can do without the Jealous One. The Jealous One cannot do without Xtasi. Therefore, there exists a pleasing imbalance of power which is unequal and can only slant further X-ward with time. *X twirls an index-finger-up around and around* Cheer for me, stadium?
The Jealous One will attempt to hide her gifts from Foe. This is intolerable to The Foe. A great wrath will descend upon her head if she tries this. Believe it. Believe in it.
And finally, they will meet in a kiss over a glass of wine full of bled blood like cow’s blood. The romance of the ages will demand a slight donation or gift framed by nature’s cast-offs, facing north, then east, then south, thence finally west. Glancing to the stars, you will see a new constellation there, a sorcerer’s grin, a blue magus wreathed in darkest gray enigma, pearled with semen’s bubbles, popping as if in a toilet bowl, some good imagery indeed, indeed
Smoke rises from distant lands — but are the island lands this numerous, this glowingly portentous? He cups her breasts from behind her back, breathing on the back of her neck. She is a ladle in his hand, giving a soupcon of acceptance. There will never be full acceptance with the state of their relationship — but you know what? He doesn’t care.
And ironically — full irony — that’s part of what she digs about him.