Sleeping Beauty

Our limbs were like instruments, playing in time to the urgency of beating hearts. While the bed beneath our bodies was the backing track to our lovemaking. Like a crescendo, it just kept on rising until the climax left us… breathless.

You always fall asleep after we have sex, and I can’t help but watch you. As I do so, I become hypnotically familiar with every inch of your perfection. Your skin, a blackberry hue, still sheened by sweat, glows under the caress of moonlight reaching in through the window. And it makes my heart bloom.

Shrouded by darkness and concealed by lids, the shine and sparkle of your eyes still radiate through, and like a sun, draw me into their orbit… embracing me with, warmth. Your lips; velvet soft, honey sweet, lay perfectly upon your face… full, delicate, tempting me like the apple tempted Eve. You’re an addiction I never want to beat.

I crave you like desert craves raindrops. One glance at your fingers sends memories of pleasure coursing through my body, as I remember the way electricity shot from your tips and fired across my being in a blaze of glory. The ghosts of your tender touches still haunt my flesh.

Inhale, exhale…I lay my head on your chest and marvel at your breathing – gentle and rhythmic as waves against a shore. I swoon, as its soothing sound serenades me like the dearest of church hymns.

And finally, when I’m drunk enough from your beauty, I snuggle further into your arms and allow your presences to lull me to sleep… for you are a masterpiece of eternal splendour – my very own sleeping beauty. But, of course, you’re more than a fairy tale. You’re you.