Are you thinking of me when you're putting on your makeup, darling,
and dying your hair like you do?
Well you're wasting time if you're trying to impress me
I waste all my time just thinking of you
She sits before me, cross legged in front of the mirror, I'm standing behind her in the door way to our room. I could watch her for hours, days, weeks on end if it wouldn't drive her crazy, and if I wouldn't die from sleep deprivation or starvation.
I watch as she ever so gracefully wings her eyeliner, looks up at me and smiles at me with those lips. Those lips alone are enough to make me fall in love, I've never felt lips so soft to the touch and so embracing in a kiss and to have such a beautiful voice pass them too. But it's her eyes that my own are locked onto.
They're like a late Spring thunderstorm, the warmth radiating, embracing you, the smell of rain strong in the air, thunder and lightning on the horizon.
And even when it rains, when the skies open up and pour, you stand there and let it wash over you, because living in that storm is infinitely more desirable than any other possibility.
She diverts her gaze back to the mirror and brushes a section of hair over her shoulder, it falls into place amongst the sea of black that makes up the right side of her hair, the left a vibrant blonde. A perfect half and half.
She's always expressed herself through her hair, before I met her, and ever since, and she's always looked undeniably beautiful, no matter the colour or style, she makes it work for her and it never ceases to amaze me.
She pauses, and looks up at me through the mirror.
Are you right, just watching me? She questions, playfully.
Yes, I reply, smiling an undoubtedly stupid smile.
I know she doesn't like when I watch her, but I find it so hard to pull myself away, she's mesmerizing, captivating. I'm like a moth to a flame, or a star to a black hole, drawn to her with no desire or ability to turn away.
She rolls her eyes and leans back in towards the mirror, I take in one last, long look and step back through the door way, closing it. Already anxious for the wait until she comes downstairs, until I see her beautiful face, and she kisses me with those velvet soft lips and I'm once again greeted by that late Spring storm.