

She said, “To be pretty for you I have dropped two seeds of turnsole in the dark of both eyes.” He was suddenly taken aback as her words seemed to cause his heart to crack. Surely such words were not coming from her, as he had spoken of her beauty many times. He studied her, wondering how she could not have realized how he adored her— that her beauty was only an ornament. He softly took her in his arms, and pressed her close. Leaning back, seeking any expression or speech that could convey his truest feelings to her, he pulled her to him again. She seemed unresponsive, stiffening, as if unable to believe his words.
“No tincture of magic was ever needed. There is nothing in this world that could in any way compare to my love for you, just as you are.”
***
Prosery: Through the eyes of Isabel Duarte Gray








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