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Unfathomable
Miscellany
Loryn
Part Two: In the Morning
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I woke up with you in my bed. In that bright morning, as the sunlight streamed through the yellow curtains in the kitchen, I would make you breakfast. I would make you breakfast while I thought about your hands, your lips, your thighs...the night before.
Before I served you, in the comfort of the soft pink sheets and purple pillows, I would flit around the bed in my tee shirt and pink Hello Kitty panties, waking you softly. Then I would hand you your orange juice while attempting to be charming, pretending that you were the best thing I ever had in that bed, Although, somehow, I don't think I would be pretending.
I would want for you to hold that moment upon rousing, to keep that bright glow I have prepared for you. I would want for you to keep the way the sun slanted through the window over the pillow and over your face, to keep the smell of the sandalwood incense still lingering in the air from the night before. I would want for you to come to me slowly; to wake gently. I would want you to take hold of this day--of me--gently, just for that single (a)rousing moment.
I would want you to have that; to have me. I would want for you to rest your head on the feather pillow, to drain the sleep from you as you held that heavy-eyed glance. The one that watched me, the one that made me nervous and giggly. In that moment, it would be the glance that would follow the woman who wanted to give you everything you could ever want. The glance that says that this simple flash of coffee, marmalade and peanut butter toast would stay with you, for good or bad, forever--regardless of staying with me.
But really--you would overlook me. Because I am not what you see. I am not a casual fuck, nor am I a keeper. I could not stay. Even though I could make you happy, maybe, even just for one hour, of one day--even just upon waking. I am not that girl...which is devastating. For both of us.