She sat across from me, in her shorts and tank. Legs pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around them. Holding a warm mug with fingers intertwined. Eyes with smudged kohl and a sleepy smile on her lips, that she couldn’t help.
She said she loved the way I made it, that it was the best coffee in the world.
I believed her!
It was a little chilly and she probably should have worn some more clothes, but she knew I liked to touch her skin, and that wouldn’t let her sit for too long.
She didn’t plan these little things, that made me want her. But they did.
She said it was the eyes. Mine devoured her, while her’s craved me.
I believed her!
Curly, unruly, dark brown hair. Deep set, big, honey coloured eyes. Almost oval, sort of symmetric, wheatish face.
Vicariously living in the grey between Murphy’s law and the law of averages was the girl they said wore too much black and very little lace.
She loved ebony, it hid the blue that was carelessly left on her.
Lilacs and pinks wasn’t what she was looking for, but a sliver of silver was also a blur.
A white knight will save the hoary times, they said. Many came riding dashing chocolate mares, with promises of a bright shiny life but left disappointed cause she wouldn’t choose their gliterring wares.
She wasn’t looking for golden adulation or crimson affections. She just wanted someone to help her slay her sooty demons.
Caressing her purple scars in one inky moment, drenched in creamy moonlight she drew her sword and decided to fight.
Muddled whiplashes and bloodied wounds not deterring her sight.
They coloured her crazy, called her a rebel, even a freak.
But the girl who wore too much black and very little lace, had looked at evil dead in its eyes and found in herself a bold red streak.
That ivory girl now shows of her wins shyly with a hint of violet, while her dark brown hair glints with a slash of scarlet!
She didn’t know what she was seeking, didn’t know if she had any questions but the sea was calling and knew she would find some answers..
The waves knew all her secrets, the sand had heard her stories patiently every time she had no one to tell them to.
The beach was sprinkled with smiles, intertwined hands, and promises of eternity..drenched in the golden hue. The sun was kissing the sea good night.
She sat on the sand breathing in the romance.
In the moment best viewed by two, she thought of the one she wanted to be there with. Maybe that was the question which was lashing with the waves.
She filled her lungs with a deep breath of salty air and decided, she didn’t want just anyone there. She wanted someone who would rather be there than anywhere else in the world. Someone who couldn’t imagine being with anyone else but with her.
She knew she deserved her moment in the sunshine
You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect—you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break—her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.