Awakened

I could not keep myself away from her.

The light was pouring out of her eyes, like a waterfall of sunshine crisply grasping on the air that enveloped her every breath, every blink. Every time she pursed her lips, I wait for her to speak. The subtle message her thin, shapely fingers sent to me was nothing short of a pleased but uncertain hello. A welcoming, I took it as such. And I had made barely half advancement when she took two steps back. Her eyes were wide with anticipating fear, but her lips were curled into a small grin she tried to fight back. I froze, uncertain with what I must do next. But the very slight of her wrist as she pushed her soft, golden hair behind her left ear encouraged me to continue.

Eye by Zacharka via deviantART

A dance, much like it. She slowly shifted her weight forward onto her right foot, but paused as if awaiting my response. I reached out to her, and as I did, her eyes followed with every movement my right arm took towards her. I stopped. Her teasing grin disappeared. I put my hand into my pocket, in regret and guilt for such an impulsive act. How foolish. But as I contemplated on my next approach, I had noticed her expecting eyes burning through my chest. But she averted her gaze, and though avoiding mine, continued to search for different, non-existent things surrounding her. Specks of dust, water vapor. Perhaps she searched for them, for she could no longer keep focused on a fixed point. This, I knew of, the look of disappointment. The wandering stare, the unfixed gaze. Confusion, denial, regret, threaded into a mesh of unachieved expectations.

She breathed in, slowly closing her eyes. Then she held her breath and her fingers twitched once as, so I had hoped, she felt the heat of my palm on her shoulder. Her lips quivered as she took half a step backward. And at the very moment those same lips gave way, I leaned in and breathed in all that she had to breathe out as I tasted her dynamically soft, forcefully meek kiss. She shifted her weight backwards, but her hands reached towards my collar. I bathed in the warm glow of her tenderness. I tasted the syrup of her vulnerable calm. And though she remained, the nighttime clothed her in a suffocating embrace. And all I could feel was the pang of the growingly bitter aftertaste of her tears.

But I could not pull away.

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