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A musing…

 

She sat there, legs stretched on his worn out sofa…

It wasn’t that hot outside. She didn’t care much for weather anyway, always wearing only a colorful bra and a matching scarf-looking piece of cloth, wrapped around her round hips, insulting to any and every member of the Skirt family.

Wasps were building a new nest, right in the corner of the living room’s window. Outside, obviously. Her big brown eyes followed their in & outs, like a cat on the hunt.

She wasn’t what he would call ”obscene”, but he was a bit biased. He loved to let his gaze wander on the milky way of her lovely calves, and up, a little higher on her thighs. But never beyond the barbed wired-like, multi colored fringes.

Her exhibitionist ways would be hard to explain if he had had a roommate to pay dues to. It wasn’t the reason he had always lived by himself, though. He just enjoyed the aloneness. And with her, being alone was even sweeter.

When she lay on her back, her arms spread, and her full and inviting breasts looked like an offering on a sacred altar, he longingly peeked in the shadowy crack of her cleavage, and his heart started humming.

He only felt alive at the heavenly touch of her alabaster skin. There was nothing sexual about it, or rather far beyond. When his fingers played along her curves, she had a way of pulling him together, pulling his thoughts and dreams, and words… Taming the chaos he had always carried.

He knew if their lips ever met, Life would reach such an apotheosis, that every minute following the end of their kiss would be a bitter disappointment.

So, from time to time, he just brushed his mouth down the hollow of her lower back, and sucked words in foreign tongues straight from her silky skin. Words that spoke of her uncanny beauty. And he knitted them together, wishing he could ink them back on her, instead of stabbing them clumsily on paper with his razorblade sharp pens.

She turned away from the wasp nest for a second, and stared straight at him.

When he chanced to look into her eyes like that, he understood where the full mood hid after dawn set.

He almost believed in magic.

Against his own will, the words slipped from his lips, and he teared up, leaving only a blurred contour of what he had believed to be her perfect silhouette,

If only you existed….

 

Reality chased away the muse with a dull ring of the front door’s bell. Once more.

 

8 thoughts on “A musing…

    1. Thank you, Gorgeous πŸ™‚ Muses are such important creatures for artists… The fact that they only exist in one’s mind doesn’t make them any less special, wouldn’t you say? πŸ™‚ xx

      Liked by 1 person

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