Personal Narrative: A Separate Person

She lays on me, painting my chest with her ebony hair. With each of my breathes her head rises and falls, it must of been the the simple rhythm that sent her to sleep. I have not known her long, or even know her middle name, but as I hold her delicate frame, a thousand thoughts go through my head. I think about how she feels under my hands, how her comforting warmth radiates to them. I think about how much I want her, yet love her at the same time. But in my thoughts I forget, I get so caught up in the moment that I do not think of her as a separate person, but as another part of myself, one in which I could not live without. Of course I would not tell her any of my thoughts, she would think me mad, but I can always have that notion of her.

I slide back and prop my head on the rough leather of the couch arm. …show more content…
With a huff and a groan I make it to my feet and head for the door. "Lock up when I leave."

"Yeah I get it, you can go now," she says while sitting on my counter looking into the cabinets. I feel a stab of anger, however I cannot be mad at such a cute girl. I stop to admire her one last time before I leave.

Her ebony hair falls in waves down her petite shoulders and adorns her porcelain skin. Her long lashes sit upon her sapphire eyes, complimented by her button nose and full lips. If she were to smile the world would stop to take it in. If she were to laugh the world would laugh with her.

"Why are you just standing there," she asked sounding amused. "Loser," she adds at the last second. If anyone were to walk by they would see us as a fighting couple, but if they looked closer they would see a smile at the corner of her lips and a twinkle in her eyes.

"Getting a last look," I say adding a wink for effect.

"Take a picture, it will last longer," she says taunting me. I smile at the thought of it. Maybe she is right. A picture would last