Tuesday, 5 February 2013

A tiny piece of writing

She ran her fingers through her hair, slowly, every piece untangling and falling naturally back into place.
James was sure he had never seen someone so undoubtedly beautiful in his life, it wasn't the obvious beauty that he gazed at in magazines, she had flaws - the dimples in her thighs that displayed she treated herself on occasion, her straight hair, dark chestnut in colour, fell just below her breasts, her nose, to some, looked on the larger side, the pale blue of her eyes provided her with an air of intensity toned down only by the warmness of her smile
- all of these elements added to her beauty and seemed to fit her perfectly.
James wanted, in that moment, so badly to speak to her - to tell her how her beauty was mesmerizing - but held back on all accounts, for someone who was that beautiful ought never know. In these cases, knowing can be precisely the wrong thing for someone - no one deserves the pressure to be held under the tree of beauty, and he did not want to burden her with that.

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