I lay back and observe you while you rest; your head back and eyes closed, your forearm draped over your head. You look so peaceful that I would almost think you were asleep if it weren't for the slight crease between your eyebrows that I've come to recognize as a sign that you are deep in thought.
So am I.
I observe your hands. The scars on your knuckles telling me that you've been fighting your whole life, physically and emotionally. I observe your arms. The glow of your brown sugar skin, and the tension of the muscles just beneath it. Your broad shoulders. The stubble along your jawline that I adore, but you hate. The small tuft of hair beneath your lower lip. The way the skin around your eyes is slightly lighter than that of your cheeks and forehead. The light scar just below your hairline.
I observe it all, and how perfect it is to me. I, a person of no belief, worship you.
You open your eyes and I observe their color. I count your perfect eyelashes. I see the soul behind your eyes. I see you. And I hope to whatever god people believe in that you see me.
"What?" you ask me, and I think I hear a fondness in your tone. I smile softly and brush the backs of my fingers along your cheek, your skin soft beneath them.
I shake my head slightly and sigh. I want to kiss you.
"Nothing." #ellowrites #writing #nothing