His beauty
Author's Note: A very stream-of-consciousness piece, a bit experimental. One of the pieces I wrote sometime during the beginning of 2008, while attempting to settle into second year Uni, which was really scary at the time - and not so scary when i look back on it now... But I LOVE Beauty and the Beast, it is my favourite fairytale and Disney movie, and there are countless times I escaped via day-dreaming or writing from my busy, hectic life into their world of wonder and magic.
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She watches him sleep, while the world moves around her. She watches him sleep and listens into the growing darkness. There is something intimate, something elusive about him… something she cannot put her finger on. She glimpses it in the soft, radiant glow that permeates his skin,
his face, his hair, the gentle breath that rises like a wisp of cloud from between parted lips, the flutter of an eyelash, the shadow of a movement…
A releasing,
an unguarded vulnerability,
that shines.
She presses her ear against the pulse in the hollow of his throat, as if to search for some sign, some clue,as if to uncover the mysteries of the universe in his rhythmic breathing, his steady heartbeats. Slowly, she lets her mind wander, lost to the echoing caverns, the waves of pounding blood and internal rhythms…
The pounding of rain
against the solid earth,
the cool, deep forest, the smell of wet leaves and misty condensation fill her senses.
Wild,
abandoned.
Her breath sharpens, her mind wanders limitless into the night, as the rain presses kisses upon her body, lightly at first, and then faster and faster, until she is drenched, vulnerable, free…
She remembers waking on a cold morning, the wind in her hair, her footsteps marking tracks in the melting snow,
his eyes…on her.
Eyes that stayed the same after the transformation; eyes as clear and as brilliant as the sky on a summer morning.
She fell in love with those eyes,
the pure soul behind them…
She remembers how it felt when strong arms had carried her through the snow when she was too tired to walk any further; the paws of an animal, a beast, but with a gentleness that captivated her, a steadiness that quieted her.
She sighs.
Troubles disintegrate into the night. Her mind lifts, free to drift, released from its earthly constraints.
Images fragmented, fill her mind; a lone petal in a frosted glass dome, a room with so many books that reach to the ceiling,
blood on crisp, white snow.
Music which swells and dips like a wave…lights reflecting off a crystal chandelier…
Shimmering rain falling from the sky… his eyes; her love's eyes from within a stranger's face…
Wrapped in warmth; strong arms, slender fingers, a touch that she knows and welcomes. She is safe; his fingers in her hair, his whispered words in her ear…
It is you…
Desire…unsure… shy at first, but trembling, unbidden, limitless…lost to the sensation of touch; lips, fingers… cool air on bare skin… the light;
changing,
suspended…
above time…
in between the spaces…
breath…irregular, pounding, heartbeat…all the little things she notices; the way his hair moves across his face, the light in his eyes, the tips of his fingers drawing patterns, the melting warmth across her body, his whispered words again and again; I love you, I love you…
I love you…
Shadows bring her back, earthbound, to the sound of the wind on the sill, the softly blowing curtain… her lover's breathing. Her ear is still pressed to his chest. The darkness wraps around her, friendly, soft…She muses to herself how far away from her body she has drifted, how soft and subtle the shadows between waking and dreaming are.
In the dark, a smile catches on her lips. Here in the secret night she can watch her lover sleep, undisturbed, and marvel at his strength, his beauty, and a sadness that touches the corner of his mouth; innocence lost, an irreclaimable childhood…
Slowly, she rises on one elbow to look at his face; pale, beautiful in the moonlight, and leans over him, her hair falling like a veil around him, a veil which shields out the world. She presses her lips to his forehead, his eyelids, his high cheek bones, his hairline, his mouth, every freckle, every blemish and every scar. There is beauty in vulnerability, in frailty, in suffering. There is beauty in everything.
In the morning night's magic will melt away in a whirlwind of activity; the mundanity of everyday life, the trivialities, the pretenses…
But for now…
She can marvel at a beauty that is true, iridescent, tangible.
His beauty.
A beauty renewed,
Real,
and hers forever.