imperfection

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    i rested on the couch which caused me to sink in between its cushions, trapping me and holding me hostage in front of her. she, the women of heavenly imperfection and graceful dance. she sat in a chair across from me, playing her grandmother’s cello. i watched with thoughtful interest and value, curiosity and respect. her arm movements and patterns reminded me of the wings of a dove, flapping wisely and slowly in the wind. but, in danger and urgency, they flap viciously and out of control.

     her mind was flourishing, resembling the of depths william shakespeare. her ideas, outrageous and carefree. they may as well be appalling or shocking to most, but to me they are nothing more than just her. her thoughts, actions, and touch resonating throughout my veins, purifying my blood.

     the most mesmerizing exquisites i found in her were her imperfections. qualities that were unique in a sense that no one had them but her, they made me love her until i couldn’t afford to breathe no more. she was an antique. a book, with a decaying spine and spoiled pages. is worth less compared to the others, but worth a fortune to the right person. she, was my fortune.

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genre: romance

time taken: 1 hour

word count: 204

#ssc22