Her body looks so nice outlined in my silk sheets.
I quietly study her breathing, gently shaking from the chill that creeps in from the open window.
She is lovely. Her skin radiates dewed youth, her hair bounces with light even when she is not laughing. Her legs are strong, yet soft. Her arms almost resemble that of a pair of wings that will embrace any gust of golden opportunity, as they lay lining with her innocent, untouched body... She breathes softly, still. Her petite, curved figure wants to be touched, but I hold back.
I lay my head on my pillow and stare at the white ceiling.
Oh god, her body. I close my eyes. I can almost feel her vibrance, radiating in me as I recall her every move of yesterday, her yearning touches, her anxious breath on my neck.
But that is all.
I have yet to deflower this goddess from her untouchable pedestal.
I need her to be here, with me. On the dirty, unpaved road that I travel with my bottles of wine, cigarettes, my voice, and my guitar. For this road gets quite lonely when my only entertainment is watching my lady in the sky, glowing and smiling down at me while I serenade her with my inadequate shows of song and clumsiness. My inadequacy laces me with my abuses of sustenance and sex.
She stirs next to me. A soft moan escapes her softly spoken lips. I watch as she rustles between the sheets, trying to find the one who will be her downfall, and I cannot do anything but shy away and think about how I do not deserve this masterpiece.
No matter. What I do to her won't count. She will still radiate extremities, still speak divine poetry, still have the laugh that rings like newly crafted bells, like that night I came to her city.. That fateful night I recognized her studious face within the crowd of screaming girls who wanted nothing less of my soul.//
Oh, how her hair created a halo that resembled of a dark, opaque star, the ones that spin so furiously it is nothing but a memory in the dark oblivion of the sky. Her eyes stayed shut and were carried by the music I played on stage, painting pictures in her head, as she recalled.
Her skin was glazed with the sweat from the impersonal underlining of the stage lights.. The way her body moved to match the beat of the music.
She intoxicated me, my already drug laced body had never felt this elevated until I saw this woman make love to my songs. That night I played for her, and only her.
I fell in love with this one.
//
