Bare Your Soul #2

Waking up at the crack of dawn, hearing his soothing, genial voice was like hearing the radiance of an acoustic guitar playing. He stretched his arms upon his head and gave me a lazy smile and greeted me good morning. My soul tingled with electricity. He started to untangle himself from the sheets. Bare naked, his bronze, sun-kissed skin glowed in the dim, gleaming sunlight. He layed next to me, getting in tune with his surroundings, staring at the ceiling with what seemed like a curious fascination. All I could do was stare at his beauty. He doesn't look a thing like James Dean. He doesn't have a muscular structure. In fact, he was quite opposite. But those things do not matter. I'm indifferent with his "lack of fantasy qualities" the typical girl would desire in a man. My hand aches to caress his cheek, to feel his stuble and appreciate all his imperfections, but I restrain it from doing so, not wanting to put him in exasperation. He reaches over to the nightstand grabbing a lighter and cigarette. He places the cigarette between his lips, opening the lighter and watches the end of the cigarette burn crisp, inhaling the nicotine and tobacco. Thin mist of smoke dances up to the ceiling, extending its imaginary limbs to the depths of the room, swirling and twirling like a ballerina. He flicks his ashes and turns his head towards me, beaming with bliss. We uphold our gazes, our brown eyes connecting to each others soul. He grabs my chin with his free hand, pulls me in and lightly kisses my lips, gazing back into my eyes, "I'll go get breakfast." he happily announces.He slips into his over sized shirt, favorite carpi pants and over-worn flip flops. He slithers his fingers through his soft, silky hair, grabs his car keys and wallet and greets me goodbye, dancing out of the door. As soon as I hear his engine start up and his wheels reeving down the the street I sigh of relife and weap of lingering despair. I curl up in a ball under the thin, vulnerable sheets, letting my tears travel one by one down my cheeks. When I am with him, a mask is on. I hide my true feelings and lock up all emotions, swallowing the key. But see, when he is no where near my presence, I hurl the key from my inside, unlock my emotions from my chamber and let myself acknowledge that he is what I can never have. I treat him the way a lover should treat the one they love.
But I am not his lover and he is not mine.