A lunchtime post for a snowy day, about admiring from a distance.
She really is beautiful. Everything about her shines, and her effortless movements reflect her inner grace. From a distance she seems like an infinite reserve of ethereal charm, a constellation forever glowing in the indigo sky.
I want nothing more but to see her. I want to see parts of her which are saved for the most intimate of moments, to experience the glow seep from her pores and flow across her skin. I want to touch her, run my nervous fingers across her collarbone, down her neck, along the length of her spine. I want to feel the softness of her lips, which seem incapable of hiding a smile, and to know the way she would move under mine. I want to hear her sounds, the intended and the involuntary, and the transition between the two. I want to know how she tastes.
But I think for now all I can do is look. And look is all I do.