Sleeping Beauty

This is just a short, 2 paragraph story. About the story: As you know, writers take portions of themselves and put it in their writings. I hope you enjoy :)

Sunlight gently traced her face, matching every contour as if in reflection. Her eyes were closed, and her breath was even. I was drawn into the silent game between the crinkle of her brow and the twitch of her nose. Back and forth, and back and forth. Up and down, and up and down. She was truly the image of a sleeping beauty, for her glow was natural and not tainted by artificial blushes and foundation. My fingertips were itching to follow the patterns of her skin, yet the fear of her waking made me pause. I laid my head down not two inches from her face, feeling her breath come out in short even puffs. My eyes bore into her eyelids, imagining I was staring deep into those chocolate browns. If she would allow me to, I would look into them for eternity. Sadness began its overwhelming descent into the pit of my heart, then I couldn't stop my hand from touching her face. So beautiful. I then got angry, angry at myself for doing this. She was not mine, and she never will be. Yet in the sweetest moments before dawn, there are times I will forget this undying truth. I watch as my thumb creates small circles just beside her eye, and down her cheek, and to her chin. By the time I stop this forbidden descent, my hand is tingling with fire and need. But I do not give in, because the after effects would be endless. So I lean my forehead against hers, and I inhale her scent, letting it fill my lungs-- then I exhale my selfishness, and pull back.

Sunlight gently passes her face, leaving every contour as if in a bittersweet goodbye. Her eyes open, catching mine, and she smiles one of her beautiful smiles. "Good morning," she whispers. Oh, that voice; what a sweet melody it plays on my ears. She waits for me to return her simple greeting, but I don't. My voice catches in my throat, and angry tears form in my eyes. Is this what every morning will be? A wish? A dream? A nightmare? I can see her watching the emotions swirl in my eyes, the anger and love and sadness. She swiftly grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers together. A perfect fit. But just as I start to feel complete with her, thoughts plague my heart. My long honey-brown hair falls into my eyes, and as she begins to move it, I notice soft skin against soft skin; I notice our hands are almost the same size, hers just a little smaller but just as delicate; then I finally notice that all I am to her is a lost soul, a lost girl. I stare into her eyes a moment longer, then I finally decide to say in a gentle but barely noticeable yearning, "Good morning."

Author's Note

I love any and all critiques, but please no bad language. I'm new to writing and putting thoughts down on paper, yet I know you have to start somewhere!

Reviews

[mbaird]

Very descriptive! I felt as though I was there experiencing the entire scene with you. Definitely keep writing.

[OneLostOneFound]

Thank you :) Description has never been my strong point, but I really did try my best with this story; it makes me very happy to know that I didn't bore you. ;)

[Mermaidstear]

Again this is a beautiful piece :) I wish I could write something like this.

[OneLostOneFound]

Thank you so much! :) And you can. Just close your eyes and let the words come to you -- don't force it, don't rush it. Just breathe, and they'll be there waiting.

[Mermaidstear]

thanks for such wonderful advice I'll try something soon :)