She was always so beautiful. The way her hair flew with the sea wind, almost dancing, the dark brown strands framing her porcelain face like silk around a piece of artwork. Her eyes, were always so different. A light brown, with a dot or two of grey and green. Oh and when she smiles, her whole face lights up, her eyes scrunch, and she looks like the most beautiful person to have ever existed.
But that wasn't all that made her beautiful. It was the way she was. So graceful outside, her fingers lightly brushing over the tall grass, like a princess form Disney, so whimsical it's almost unbearable. But when she was indoors, she was so clumsy, the little dork. She bumped into so many tables, so many walls. She falls down the stairs, and up. And she fell in love with me.
When we lay down on the couch, the first few moments of quite since we had the baby, I trace the attach marks on her stomach with the tip of my finger, and all the little scars and bumps from past tumbles. She hates when I do, says that they are flaws, but I just roll my eyes, give a warm, sweet kiss and tell her it's impossible, she's flawless. She laughs and shakes her head, calls me an idiot. God o love that name.
If only she knew, how much I loved her. She still doubts it, every once and a while. She gets possessive, the little feisty thing, and like to tell me if I like them so much I should marry them. And I always say, baby calm down, those gurls, there nothing, nothing compared to the diamond I got. She looks at me, and she says she doesn't believe me. So I go on and on, about all the reason I love her, and by the bed, she had tears in her eyes.
She give me a hug and a kiss, tells me she's sorry. I always say, never say sorry, because you don't have anything to be sorry for. And she smiles, and we make sweet, passionate love. She always tired after, and for that I'm proud. You see, Love. It's never what you think. It's always such a beautiful thing. But no one seems to know what it is. I do. It's her.
————————————-
First short story!!

YOU ARE READING
Shattered Glass
PuisiFull of poems and short stories. Usually depends on my mood, so might be sad or happy. Who knows? Thanks for reading!