Scintilla

Smooth skin. Like butterscotch, tan and creamy. I don’t believe that I have ever seen a single blemish on your body. You’re white, but that odd sort of white that you don’t see too much of. Your skin is not a linen sheet, with wrinkles in the breeze, and yet your skin is not rocky road ice cream, chunky, and dark brown. Although, your skin is sweet, like dessert, and enjoyable as well.

Gentle eyes, eyes that would allow a sailboat to drift across them until someday it would drift too far for anyone to see. They are filled with craters, and rock dust, debris from the bark of a fallen tree, and when I look into your eyes, I no longer see a person standing in front of me. I see summer nights that were swallowed away. I see people and places that define who you are, I see sunset skies, and the sound of laughter, I see the way they match up with my own, and then I see myself as well. Eyes that grant me euphoria, an escape, my way out of the never-ending universe that consumes and sucks everyone and everything in, an escape off this journey that is pulling all of us closer to a greater force, but a journey that I don’t want to be a part of. Eyes, gentle eyes that allow a sailboat to drift across them until someday it would drift too far for anyone to see; a sailboat with two passengers, you, and me.

Sharp nose, pointed and undefined, and stuck in the air. Round at the tip as if it were smoothed by His fingertips. Narrow, slit like nostrils, running vertically by each other, softening at the base into a hollow bowl.

Lips. Lips that smile when they’re happy, and twitch when they’re mad. Lips that crease into valleys and hills of a warm pink and brown. Sweet, candy like lips that I catch myself starring at way too often, and imagining how they must feel. I’ve concluded several times that they would taste like cotton candy, and would be as smooth as a tub of margarine butter.

Smile, so large, so vivid, and so noticeable. Your smile gaps your face in two. The upper half holds eyes that shine and crease in the corners and flash like fireworks, while the lower half has a chin that nods up and down with the motion of your cackle, and the sides of your face fold up into origami grooves that make me feel whole. Teeth that shine between your juicy, mango lips; teeth, which fluoresce in the dark concaves of your mouth and contain a type of contagion that brightens up whomever may see them.

Body, so long and thin. Muscular, and toned, however, you still have the posture of someone who’s thin, a small slouch on your back and a groove right below.

Clothes, you don’t need, but you feel you should wear. You dress down almost everyday, but when you dress up, I believe I’ve seen angels slit the throats of cat-callers and replace their mangled bodies with their own winged glows.

Imperfections do exist on your body, not very many, but they’re still there. However, I do not see a crooked nose, or an S-shaped spine. I see a nose that functions and fills your lungs with oxygen. I see a spine that bends to fit the curves of my body. I see a tree at the end of fall, which everyone else may see as dying, but I see as blooming. The whole world may see your diminishing green leaves, yet I see your strong orange leaves that cling on, despite all odds. I do not see imperfections on your body; instead I see the opportunities of your individuality. 

Comments

Gonsalves Mpili

its nice

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