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Sjanni

Australia

Hey there! I'm an aspiring writer from Australia, currently studying + writing every second in between. Most of my pieces are musings and the like, and feedback + constructive criticism are always welcome! Bee's, the moon, and lipstick keep me alive

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I would love to hear thoughts on this piece! Please feel free to leave them!

Never Yours

February 19, 2016

FREE WRITING

2
The first time he laid eyes on her, he fell in love immediately. The soft curve of her waist was an invitation and the hollow of her cheek was painted with a hue of sunset pink. 

Her skin: Gentle and full of warmth.
Her lips: Supple. Kissable.

This woman. He was completely and utterly in love with her. She consumed every though, every ounce of his being. And yet she wasn't his.
Every morning he would sit and watch as she would rub grains of sleep out of her eyes. She would arch her back, hum softly to herself, and smile as light would slip through the parted curtains. And then a man beside her would lean in and kiss her perfect cheek.
Every afternoon he would sit and watch the man who wasn't him wrap a pair of strong arms around her waist as she dragged a paint brush over her canvas.
Every night he would sit and watch as she would slip into her bed, a sleepy smile on her lips as the other man kissed them tenderly.

He was not him. Why could she not be his?

He did have his moments with her however. Precious, untradable moments. 

The he beautiful woman would pour her morning coffee before walking up to him and letting her loving eyes wander over his face. She would follow the sharp line of his jaw, and the light dusting of stubble over his cheek and chin. Sometimes, she would even bring up a hand, place it over his cheek, and meet his gaze; And then he could feel himself fall in love all over again.

But paintings are not allowed to fall in love with their artists. It just doesn't work. He was in love with her. 
Completely. Eternally.
And she loved him too. But she would never be his.

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