Cream skin

It was hard to think back on those days when he had first met her. They had been so young back then. So very young and so naive. Oh how the years had changed them.

They had met at a local disco. He and his mates had 'borrowed' a bottle of whiskey from one of their older brothers, which they had quickly drunk down before entering, to give them a little bit of dutch courage. After all, they were young still and it wasn't easy to work up the courage to ask the local girls to dance. Especially when you had your eyes on a looker. 

Tony had got talking to a friend of hers, while the others had been dancing, and dragged him over. Despite the drinks before hand he had been too shy to look at her at first. He had just gone through a growth spurt and was at that stage where he was getting used to his new body, all gangly and awkward. But Tony had said his name, and was introducing him to the friend and to her, and he had to look up.

From the start he had been captivated. Her stormy grey eyes touched something in his soul. Her red lips, a bright scarlet, made him want to reach out and kiss her right then, and he had yet to say two words to her. And her skin. It was flawless, none of the blemishes others of their age had. It was the colour of smooth cream, and begged to be touched, to be rubbed and to be felt. If he hadn't been so shy, if it had been a different age, he might have laid his hand on her arm, just to feel her creamy skin. 

There had of course been many instances over the years when he had been able to touch that creamy skin, to feel it beneath his fingers. That night had only been the night they had met, they had had many more together. 

He could remember how she looked in that white dress on what was the happiest day of his life. The dress had made her skin gleam and that night he saw all of her skin for the first time of many. 

But the years had passed and her skin and lost its colour. Time had brought them to this day, to here, with him standing over her, kissing her once creamy skin on her cheek, kissing the love of his life goodbye. The skin was no longer the colour of cream, age and illness and finally death had robbed it of its colour. But he would always remember her as that young girl he had first met, the girl with the flawless cream skin. 


I'm not sure what colours have been used and which haven't. But the next colour will be lilac. 

The End

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