Behind Closed Eyes

Just a little short story I wrote after an amzing night with my boyfriend. Not the norm for me, way to soppy and lovey-dovey, but i was in the mood, and my pen just flowed, there was no stopping it!

All I hear is his heartbeat. The world around seems to pull to halt as I tune into the sound of his unconscious body, lying asleep beside me. This is my one chance to look, to stare and analyse every detail of his face. The smooth curve of his jaw, the delicate line around his eyes both grow deeper when he smiles, and even more so when he laughs. If only he slept with an open eye, so I could lose myself in that also. The way they change from blue to grey then to green each day mesmerises me. When he looks at me I feel his eyes seeing past my countenance, and my outward presentation. No, like roots they spy out every detail of my unseen traits, and guard themselves with two think rows of eyelashes. They flutter gently for a second, the sight stealing the very breath from my lungs. No, don’t wake now; just a few more moments. My eyes drift to his lips, eager to soak in every minute element before my time ends. For hours I’ve lay here, searching the depths of my being to find a word, an emotion, something to describe those lips, falling short each time. How does one describe such infinite beauty, such perfection? With mere words? The thought of them reminds me of late spring, when the air is warm, the breeze is light, and the dazzling sun rises to greet an array of flora.
 As I lay beside him, and gaze upon his sheer beauty, I wonder to myself; is this why I love him? Because his eyelashes and prominent jaw line? Or is it something more, something deeper? I chuckle internally at myself for even considering my love for him as shallowly versed on appearance. My heart knows otherwise. I love him because he is himself around me, and never anything other than such; which in turn allows me to be myself around him. He takes all my faults, my weaknesses and all, and as opposed to turning his nose up, or vainly attempting to change me, he accepts me with open arms. I don’t have to pretend for him. No, he wants me, not a distorted version of my person. I love him, because he is better than me, in more ways than I can count, but never does he look down on me or judge me. Instead, he loyally wades by my side and guides me through every decision. I sound like such a sop. This must be what love does.
 Again he stirs, his moth twitching. I know for certain now that he will arise. I take one last gaze and prepare myself to look away. Till his mouth twitches just once more. Before I have a chance to look away, the corners of his mouth rise, and I am greeted by one of his bright smiles; the same ones that keep me awake at night
“What are you staring at?” He whispers playfully, eyes still closed. I abruptly clamp my eyes shut, and pray my pulsating heart is not audible. I feel the gentle, comforting warmth of his body grow closer to mine, and then his soft, indescribable lips press against my forehead, a soothing breeze lingering on my skin. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek as he whispers “Night baby”. And then, once again, the room falls silent, the sound of our bodies being the only audible sound. Although mine were pulled tightly shut, I still feel his omniscient eyes resting on me, reading me like a book. I lay here, with the boy who holds my heart, and cannot help but wish, pray, that he was gazing upon me as I was him, savouring the moment, when he can take in every part of me.

The End

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