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porcelain skin

Date Written: October 12, 2017
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SHE WANTS THE ATTENTION FROM THE ONE SHE LONGS FOR.

HE LOVED MAKING HER SMILE, WHEN THEY LAUGHED, IT WAS TOGETHER AND WHEN THEY TALKED, THEY WERE LIKE FOREVER FRIENDS.

THEY GIGGLED LIKE LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS BACKSTAGE WHILE TRYING TO FIND AN EMPTY ROOM.

THEY’VE BOTH BEEN WITH MANY BEFORE, BUT THEY WERE SPECIAL TO EACH OTHER.

HE TOLD HER THAT SHE WAS A GOOD KISSER.

SHE GRINNED AND PULLED HIM IN FOR MORE.

SHE TASTED THE BEER ON HIS LIPS AND HE TASTED HER SWEET ROSE.

THEY FELT LIKE EACH OTHER’S FIRSTS.

SHE STUDIED HIM CAREFULLY WHILE SHE WAS IN THE CROWD AND HE WAS ON THE STAGE, NODDING HIS HEAD TO THE BEAT OF THE MUSIC THAT HE CREATED WITH HIS BAND.

THE WAY HIS GLASSES FRAME HIS FACE, HIS FILLED IN, CROSS TATTOOS, HIS FULL LIPS THAT CURVE SO SEDUCTIVELY WHEN HE LOOKS AT HER, AND HIS WARM GAZE THAT SHE LOVES SO MUCH.

SHE WAS SELFISH AND WANTED HIM TO STAY, BUT HE HAD TO LEAVE THE VERY NEXT DAY.

HE COMES BACK IN A MONTH AND THE ONLY THING SHE HAS TO REMEMBER HIM BY IS A LOUSY, BLURRED PICTURE OF THEM TOGETHER, BUT IT WAS SPECIAL.

BEHIND THE SCREEN, HE HELD HER LIKE HE DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE AND HE KNEW SHE DIDN’T WANT HIM TO EITHER.

THEY TALKED AFTERWARDS, THEN SILENCE.

SHE TRIED TO FORGET THE ADVENTEROUS NIGHT THAT THEY HAD BOTH LOVED SO MUCH.

HE MISSED HER.

HE SENT HER, “HEY CUTIE” AND EVERYTHING THAT SHE TRIED TO FORGET CAME BACK.

HE WANTED TO SEE HER AGAIN AND SHE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR WEEKS.

HE SAID, “CALL ME” AND GAVE HER HIS PERSONAL CELL NUMBER.

SHE SAVED HIM IN HER PHONE AS A KISS.

SHE FELT BUTTERFLIES AS SHE HEARD HIS BUTTERY VOICE THROUGH THE CELL.

SHE MUTTERED, “HI” AND COULD BARELY TALK WITHOUT STUTTERING.

THEY LAUGHED TOGETHER AND SHE GRINNED IN PLEASURE BECAUSE SHE FELT ACCOMPLISHED.

HE TOLD HER THAT MOST PEOPLE ARE FAKE NICE TO HIM, SHE WANTED TO SAY THAT SHE WASN’T FAKE AND WAS GENUNINELY BEING AMIABLE.

SHE MISSED HIS FINGERTIPS TRACING HER BODY AND SHE LOVED THE WAY HE WHISPERED IN HER EAR.

SHE LOVED AND MISSED HIS PORCELAIN, AGED SKIN, STILL NOT SURE HOW OLD HE WAS.

SHE WAS TURNING NINETEEN SOON.

HE MIGHTV’E BEEN THIRTY-NINE.

EVERYONE SHE TOLD WAS WORRIED FOR HER SAFETY, BUT SHE JUST WANTED TO FEEL SAFE IN HIS PROTECTION.

IT WASN’T RIGHT OR NORMAL, BUT SHE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT WHAT THEY THOUGHT.

SHE HAD TUNNEL VISION AND HE WAS THE ONLY THING SHE SAW.

SHE REMEMBERED HOW SHE WATCHED HIM ON STAGE, TAPPING HIS FOOT, PLAYING THE CHORDS TO THE SONGS THAT SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH.

SHE STOOD IN THE CROWD, EYES CLOSED, BUT SHE KNEW HE WAS TAKING GLANCES.

SHE LOVED THE ATTENTION.

SHE LOVED THE WAY HE HELD HER AND HOW HE HUGGED HER GOODBYE LIKE HE DIDN’T WANT TO PART.

SHE FELT ADORED BY HIM; SHE HAD NEVER FELT THAT WAY BEFORE.

SHE STARTED BUILDING A FANTASY OF JUST THEM TWO.

SHE KNEW IT WOULD ONLY BE A DREAM, BUT SHE BELIEVED THAT HER LIFE WAS A FAIRYTALE AND IN FAIRYTALES SOME DREAMS DO COME TRUE.

SHE SITS, WAITING FOR HIS SHOWS TO END SO THEY COULD TALK JUST FOR A MOMENT BEFORE HE HAS TO PREPARE FOR HIS NEXT ONE, BUT THAT’S ALL SHE’S GOING TO BE DOING; WAITING.

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