Young Writers Society

The sun was beginning to seep through the window, the morning rays waking me from a dream. The early morning sounds of fluttering birds perching on branches and singing, the wind gently rustling the fallen November leaves created a quiet landscape for me to awaken too. However, what I found next to me seemed more of a dream than the one I had just departed. Her head was resting in the crook of my shoulder, rising and falling with my breathing. Her long brown hair was cascading across my chest, like a river flowing gently through the plains, strung about in a seemingly random manner. Her arm draped across me, her hand pressed against my ribs. Skimming her arm with my fingertips with the utmost tenderness causing her to stir slightly. Pulled tight against me, leaving no morsel of space between us, her leg was thrown over mine, she seemed completely entangled in me with no possibility of separating. I can feel her soft breaths on me as I stroke her delicate face with my thumb and finger, amazed at how such a miracle could be found in my bed. Running my hand through her hair to reveal her soft lips that I knew hid a stunning smile, one that could lighten the most somber room or darkest day, the very same one that entraps me in its beauty every time I see it. Feeling her strong jawline beneath my hand, knowing it belongs to a woman who emits such confidence and independence it scares away most men, but also to a woman who yearns to be cared for, to feel the embrace of someone she trusts and is safe with. Her closed eyes hide jems that put even the most spectacular jewels to shame as if they were common pebbles, eyes that can easily pierce through a man she doesn’t trust, eyes that gleam when she laughs, eyes that seem to hold a million answers and even more questions. Wanting to wake her to enjoy her company, to hear her soft singsong voice, to see the sleepiness be washed away from her eyes when she realizes where she is, but this is all matched by wanting to leave her where she is, to fully take in the beauty of what lays before me could take a million lifetimes, if i could only capture it in a painting it would surely put Picasso to shame.