Her Pt.2

     So finally, we were alone together.

     In that moment she wasn't doing a thing that she could see, except standing there shifting weight, arms crossed, holding my world together.

     We began to sit down, arms and legs in a tangle, seeking to be encroached with each others bodies. I put my head o hers, and I dared not move an inch further than that. I could not bear to disturb her, and risk invoking the deep, rolling aria... this song that I felt rumbling from her body onto mine, and breathing in synchronization. 

      I looked up at her eyes. They were dark. Dark as a wood, dark as coffee, dark as the chocolate in my pocket, but they had specs of hazel- no, not hazel. Looking deeper at them there were hints of amber traced across her iris. They were set in a fair head, of a long round oval. Like a teardrop from the sky, the closest thing to perfection that anything was allowed to be without being condescending. Her enticing smile could stop a man's heart, for me it stopped my mind. Her lips were a light pink. Not the hideous fake lines of pink that many a woman deems pretty but her pink was different. it was real. They were always pink, morning, day and night. Just like she was eating a cupcake or stealing a heart moments before you would meet.
     She bent back her head across my arm signalling for me to start kissing her, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to me as the only anchor in a dizzy world. My lips began to shake her neck, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from me sensations I never knew I could feel. And before tracing up the curves of my lips to her own I looked back at her.
     I slowly raised up to meet her lips, already wishing, waiting, wanting, like a question. The longest question I ever spent answering. Now, I don't exaggerate our kiss, change the nature of it; I won’t profess it to be something it never was- but it was perfect. And it was with her and it was mine and it was wow.
We're kissing now. Once, twice, until we both get a taste and realize it will never be enough. We start kissing harder, deeper, with a fervent urgency I've never had before, until the desperate crescendo happens and everything is blooming and we have just each other for security to hold onto. A covenant of two souls binding into one. A celebration of the chances we took to the road ahead. A completion of a decision made long ago in the depths of our hearts without us really ever knowing.
Sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, the luckiest person on the face of the planet, then the person that you love chooses to love you back. And I guess I was pretty lucky.

Her

     I went on a trip to Niagara Falls two years ago. I was on the New York balcony and I was looking down at the water streaming down, interweaving and intertwining within itself, giving the illusion of more water and more chaos. It was a colorful drip of solitude around the black oceans of infinity and whatever else is beyond. To me, it was a high beauty far from being ever in my reach. It was the most beautiful and at the same time horrid thing in the world, the inability of the human mind to have something like that, something larger than life and gorgeous but also so mocking as to say that you could never reach it, and if you did you would never be good enough or it. Like a vintage photograph, it was one of those fleeting moments you wish you could treasure forever. I felt the rush of blood in my heart from looking at the scenery: so magnificent and majestic- I was moved and gratified- and yet desperately troubled at the same time. The sense of unexpected distance was dizzying and confusing as well as provoking. It was the same with her.
     We were walking now, below in elbow, heart in heart, with me cusping her hand feverishly. I didn't need to look at her, like she was the sun, always there and always amazing, everlasting, that you needn't have to catch a glimpse of it any more than you would need to catch a glimpse of yourself. Even without looking I had known what was next to me, her features were long embedded into my mind as if to always exist their in her own corner.
     But I took a look anyway. She had magenta palms and her cheeks lit to the tune of a lovely flame, like the thrilling rush of taking a warm bath after being soaked in the rain. Her hair was pretty. Very, very pretty. The kind of pretty that didn't make a big deal about itself.
     I down at her, to her eyes. They were dark. Dark as awood, dark as coffee, dark as the chocalate in my pcket, but they had specs of
     To me this girl was so beautiful, so criminally attractive, set on a different stage then other people that it baffled me why no one was disturbed at the beat of her vibrant skips around the halls, why no one else's heart was brazenly stirred by the bite of her lips, the amount of self restraint everyone else would need to not go mad with the push of her hair, ballad of her eyes, the gold of her laughter.
     When we finally reached the area of the succumbed she began to look around insistently, scanning or other people, as if to be adamant of letting anyone else participate in the euphoria that was long predetermined and simply just now put into course. Paranoid of other getting her same gratitude.
     So finally, we were alone together.