To her, he was an angel, a beautiful one manifested by the hands of God himself. He held the kind of beauty that was evident to others, the kind that was hard to hide. So fiercely shaped and gently molded were his features, that it was hard to consider the fact that it hid more beneath the skin that the eyes could see. Yet to the one who loved him most, it was there in plain sight. Even more so as to WHO he was, it was hard to say WHAT he was, for the way his hair fluttered in the gentle breeze and gracefully sat atop his head like a black raven, indicated the possibility of a bird. Yet his skin, which had never known any blemish and that held the faint hint of a hidden passion; was secreting away the possibility of reincarnation as a god. For to his lover that’s what he was; the true definition of perfection. With the soft pink lips slightly curved, a remnant of previous smiles stained by laughter.

But what practically screamed at her the very essence of his being was his smell, his eyes, his voice. His smell was his own; no doubt about that, it wasn’t like a smell you could identify, it was mysterious with a hint of hormones and mint. A rather peculiar scent, but one that sent her reeling, practically driven insane. Next were his eyes, beautiful Coffee brown with a mix of melted chocolate and honey tea. Words materialized to define these gorgeous features: Entrancing, Loving, Teasing, Happy, Lovely, most defiantly, Kind. Last, his voice, his voice, his voice, his voice.

His beautiful voice. It was the voice of a mystical being, with all the pure harmony and sweetness. Like a combination of cupid, a lost prince of Arabia, surfer boy, and something else unknown to man. He was perfect for her. But how much she hoped she was the same for him. For had he known who he was. Had he gazed into her eyes for a split second longer. He would have known. He would have known the burning desire she had for him. How her heart broke every limb within her as it grew thrice in size. How her soul throbbed to be joined with his. Had he known, maybe in the end it would have been different,. Maybe in the end, she wouldn’t have been left there confused. For fear and bashfulness do not capture the ignorant heart of the young being. Nor encase it in it’s incompetent claws.

___The Lover