she sits--
amidst the rumpled bedclothes--
she sits
and waits
her hair a jumbled brown tangle
roughed up from the friction--
from the sheets and his skin and his hands--
her cheeks slightly rosy,
complexion dewy, that perfect blend of porcelain and flush
she sits--
her pale hands nervous,
her delicate fingers with the nails painted plum--picking anxiously,
anxiously at the sheets,
twisting themselves in the 600 count cotton--
she sits
and waits
the door creaks--
she bites her lips,
her pulse thudding loudly in her ears,
she strains for a reassuring glimpse of his shadow--
and sees it in the doorway
she breathes a sigh of relief
he enters the room,
and as always, she is amazed--
how could someone, so perfect, so beautiful,
how could someone as marvelous as him
see something so marvelous in someone like her--
she marvels in the absurdity
tall, strong, masculine, blonde
she allows herself one hedonistic moment
one selfish moment to just stare shamelessly and drink him in--
her turquoise eyes meet his, and she feels a splash of warmth across her cheeks
the smoldering intensity behind those ocean eyes makes her heart race
this isn't love--it can't be,
she insists
purely lust, unrestrained and running wild and free
and yet, what else could it be?
how else could she even begin to explain how he seemed to occupy so much of her mind?
she sits--
amidst the rumpled bedclothes,
aching, yearning,
she sits
and chides herself as nothing more than a fool
she sits, and she waits--
he sits then, on the edge of the bed,
flashes her one of his trademarked smiles--
crooked and boyish
playful, yet purely seductive
maddening yet utterly heart stuttering--
leans towards her, and envelops her in a crushing hug
she closes her eyes, and much like an addict, breathes him in
he lets go, without the words she longs to hear
reaching down to the floor to pick up his jeans
and he puts them on, making some joke about something trivial, insignificant--
and she laughs, though her heart falls to the floor
she quickly dresses, folding up her feelings deep inside herself
while he steps outside to have a smoke
and as the door closes, she lets her head fall into her hands
and allows herself one controlled moment to break into a trillion jagged little pieces--
before he comes back and she has to exude cool indifference
she sits--
on the edge of his king sized bed,
her legs tangled in the tumult of sheets,
she sits, she waits,
but for what...in that briefest flicker of moments,
she isn't quite sure--
--"friends with benefits", 05/25/2011.
Short. Loud. Funny. Loves chocolate cake, macaroni and cheese, and tacos. Extremely liberal. Thinks outside of the box. Couldn't imagine a world without music. Single mom to a beautiful little boy. Tries a hand at writing novels that often go unfinished. Tries to be rational but is most often excessively irrational. Wants to go to Sydney and see a kangaroo. Loves to read, loves to imagine, loves to dream...
Sounds like she should have been up and out of there instead of drowning in her own expectations.
ReplyDeletenicely done...
have a fabulous week
Rhapsody
When the spirit moves yah, take a gander at my poetry and share your thoughts on what you read....its always great to get another view on things.
take care..