If thoughts! Chapter 2. I love you, do you love me too?

I gently caress her long black hair fanned out on the pillow. She's beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous as she is lying on the bed. There's no one I can compare to her. The first time I saw her, it was as if a lightning bolt had struck me. The mysterious smile always floating around her lips made me fall for her. It's always like she wants to say: I know what you're thinking, I know your deepest secrets, don't bother to conceal them. It was obvious she knew them all, to the most intimate details.

Normally I don’t like somebody looking into the lowest caves of my mind. I do know some people make their work out of it and are quite good at it. Psychiatrists and psychologists have to root inside the soul of their patients for a living to make them better eventually. I’ve always suspected besides their occupational curiosity it also requires an awful lot of voyeurism. No, that kind of shrink isn't my friend at all. One more reason because it is wonderful I didn’t think it was bad she wanted to know me better.

            Her lips are as usually heavily colored using a bright red glossy lipstick. Her sensually full lips color as a flower opening upon her face. A mouth for kissing. I don’t quite want to touch her now, or I would have kissed her again. No, how badly I just want it, I’ll let her rest now. My finger follows the curve of her mouth without touching her skin. Only an exercise of self-control. I’m a master in it though I have to confess, I’ve already lost it once in my life.

            She loves me dearly too. Yes, it’s amazing because usually I don’t easy make friends, let alone have an affair with a seducing young woman. Her eyes, closed now, are bright-blue.  Just like an azure blue sky, clean and looking right through you, as if she can look beyond life. Just as if she sees another world, not for mortals, a place perceptible only for initiated ones. I'm almost sure she's watching that place now too behind her closed eyelids.

            Maybe, I have to admit it now that I’m a bit jealous she has this quality. She has told me about it, but like many things, to understand it well you had to be there. A parallel universe where the same people are different, better and nicer. No, with all the effort I make, I can’t imagine such a place.

            She never has been shy either. At any given time from the moment I knew her, shame was anathema to her. She walked naked through the house as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She would even, just like her creator has made her, saunter by in the garden or on the street if I would had nothing against it. Fortunately, she listens to me if I ask her something. I don’t want others to see her like I can see her. We belong to each other, forever, for eternity. I’ve said it a lot of times and persuaded her to say the same about me. Not that she didn’t want to express it or because she didn’t mean it. The way she thought about words, the human way to say things, it was too limited to define feelings according to her.

            Even now she is naked, as she is always when she lies in bed in the evening. My eyes follow the curves of her body. She’s perfect. Her firm breasts and flat stomach are those of a goddess. My goddess. Yes, it probably sounds melodramatic, but I worship her. Just like a magnet, my glances are pulled to her mons pubis, a curvature making her sexuality, stated by her nudity, even stronger, mesmerizing me as it were. I’m getting warm. I have to appeal to my self-restraint again so that I would not kiss her there. I cannot disturb her now.

            It’s like the perfect painting, a Rubens but less voluptuous for the famous artist. There’s nothing wrong to remark about her.

            Then my gaze falls upon a little spot at the level of her left breast. For goodness’ sake, it can’t be true, it may not be true. I walk around the bed coming closer to examine if my imagination didn’t trick me. I know that light can cast strange shadows. And still it’s accurate what I have noticed. A little droplet of blood has clotted where my needle has punctured her chest and found her heart. My hands are trembling, my breath is almost gasping.

I feel a storm wind rising inside of me, slow but surely blowing out of my throat while I'm screaming that one and only thought that is important to me: 'Now I have to start all over again.'

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

28/10/2015