Candid Glory

Diamond moonlight highlights the contours of his face; the luminescent glow touches his sculpted cheek bones, the reflection flung into his chartreuse-green eyes. The edges of his sensual mouth turn down, thoughts playing across his features, his emotions so alive they almost burn in the air.
His averts his intense stare to the navy ceiling of stars above.
At last, she is free to turn a shameless gaze upon his countenance, basking in his quiet beauty.
The raven blackness of his hair glistens iridescent in the moonlight; her eyes widen in wonder as colors leap out at her, magical hues of purple and blue-green. She notices faint lines reminiscent of a difficult life marking his smooth forehead, the pure alabaster gleam of his skin untainted by blemishes. In worshipful admiration she breathes silently, catching sight of his eyes, certainly his crowning glory. The pearl of the midnight moon appears in the black sea of his pupil, and stormy green waves wrap round in perfect symmetry. Honey-swept lashes lie against his skin, their tips curled to a natural perfection any woman would surely envy.
The sloping angle of his long nose gives him a dignified air, coming to a point above his impeccable mouth. Oh, his mouth. She casts a longing glance upon his lips, sensual and voluptuous, tinted flawless pink as if by an artist's brush. Firecrackers sparkle through her veins at vivid memories unconsciously summoned.

And then she knows.
INSPIRATION.
With a desire she almost cannot contain she aches to capture his essence, forever holding his beauty as a tangible photograph of memory. This is deserving of her creative soul, this man and this fleeting second in time and she stifles a cry of glee in her throat, afraid to speak for surely she shall shatter the dream of the moment.

It shall never be more than here and now and she realizes that...and yet, she is infinitely happy.
She will find someone to make her soul live.

Daybreak

*Note* To those interested in knowing if this blog is based on real life - NO! One can only dream! Lol...no, actually, I wrote this while in training for my newest job during my leave from AirTran. I was BORED out of my mind while sitting in front of a computer for eight hours straight, so our frenzied, passionate lovers were my only solace.
You can't really blame me. ;-)


Lazy fingers on sun-washed skin, the rays of January day-star warm the white room, wrapping the newlyweds in saffron. Crystal prisms dance on the wall, their diamond glow cast off the silver ring adorning her left hand as she marvels at the strange and thrilling weight of it. Bright eyes blink open; a sheepish grin spreads across features in lieu of last night's memory. She recalls the blaze of flames which burn but do not scar as they seared through her veins during the bliss of midnight's escapade.
A small sigh escapes her lips, our maiden unaware that her knight lies listening to her soft breath as he revels in the silky touch of her fingertips on his golden-bathed back. Ocean wave beats on white sands, the hum of serenity floating through the window as the breeze makes love to feather-light curtains.
She inhales the salt-spray air, the aroma of his mingling scent arousing her body and reaching to the darkest edges of her soul. The beauty of recent hours shattered her world of disbelief that such paradise could exist outside of heaven.
A flash of cerulean and she catches his gaze as he casts a worshipful glance upon her delicate features; she ducks her head in self-conscious awareness, the desire to likewise regard him so unabashedly surprising her with its strength. Her chestnut lake of voluminous tresses entices his beautiful hands, their form so exquisite they might have been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.
Puffs of vanilla clouds surround the lovers like a cocoon, the warmth of the blankets a perfect accompaniment to the cool morning wind sighing through the open window.
They speak with their eyes, azure sky and clover sea meet on a perfect horizon, clear and pristine, free of dark clouds which cast shadows of doubt.
Strawberry lips on creamy neck elicit an involuntary gasp. Lithe as a tiger he sweeps her light frame beneath the delicious weight of his, sinking with her into the snowy jungle of pillows, as together they acquiesce into the quicksands of desire, reliving the fantasies of midnight at dawn.

Inspiration Negotiation

I rarely take a photograph unless something inspires me. It must be something about the place, the moment or people I am with, or perhaps it’s a memory I feel with inherent passion must be marked forever as a snapshot, capturing the essence of the pervading emotion at that second, be it awe, happiness, sorrow, whimsy, or even anger.
I always took my camera on our trips together - my beautiful, expensive camera which boasts pristine shots with the ability to be life-size if I so choose. The thing I have lately come to realize, though, is that I never took any pictures of us together, or even him alone for that matter. One photo remains as evidence that he and I ever existed, but I have my friend and HER camera to thank for that, - not mine. The only picture I ever took was of the sunrise in Florida early one morning mere hours after our first kiss.
But sadly, even then, he didn’t inspire me.
He never did.
I see their pictures together and the snapshots of their memories and I am strangely thankful that I have no such images with him. Maybe deep down I never found him a deserving subject for my magnificent lens to behold. Perhaps subconsciously I knew it was a short-lived adventure, and not one I would relish as I reminisced.
As always, the heart and soul speak in ways we sometimes don’t recognize until it’s far too late.
His presence never inspired my pen, either; ironically it was his absence which provoked my muse and brought forth lavish words on his behalf. While I have written numerous accounts based on certain notorious character, I never wrote anything for him as a way of expressing the depth of my feelings. He accidentally happened upon the one entry I wrote while we were together; much to my chagrin he neither comprehended nor appreciated it, choosing instead to mock my earnest admission of happiness.
I realize now that subconsciously my art is an intimate part of my soul and if a man does not arouse the artist in my spirit, then I shall know that he is nor ever will be the One for me.
I do not easily or quickly wish away a person or circumstance from my life - rather I chalk it up to experience and acknowledge that it creates who I become.
Still, I know with bone-deep certainty that if I was given the choice to return to April 19th, 2008 and do things differently, I wouldn’t consider it even for a millisecond.

I’d just ask for a Time Machine.