Flowers


by Tommy-Louise almost 3 years ago

I was staring. I could feel myself doing to but I couldn't stop. I was transfixed.
We had met only three days ago and already I just knew that she had made an impression. Although until this moment, I had no idea just how much.
Her skin was flawless marble. Her frame slender and perfectly proportioned. Her hair long, thick and silky.
She was perfect.
Even now, as took off her clothes and showed me her secret.
The giant red scar cutting into her side.
She wasn't ready to tell me where it had come from, but I was okay with that. I didn't need to know.
I whispered that she was beautiful, that it was beautiful. She nodded, I couldn't tell if she believed me or not.
It didn't matter if she didn't believe me today, one day she would.
I kissed her and I picked up my pen.
I drew flowers around the scar, clinging to the scar. Big roses, small peonies, wild flowers and perfect cultivated flowers, buds and those in bloom.
Each of them representing us. How we felt and how we would feel as we grew.
When I finished, the scar wasn't hidden, it was accentuated, it was highlighted and it was splendid.
"It's beautiful." She whispered.

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Tommy-Louise

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The loud chick in the corner.

With the big eyes.

And the notebook in her bag.

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The prompt for this story