"What's wrong with me?" I think for the umpteenth time, as I look into the mirror at the identical face staring back at mine. My guilt-filled thoughts didn't stop my mind from wandering.
That face, I think, cocking my head to one side as I looked at the beauty of my reflection; that face he kisses tenderly every night.
The look on that face softens as I think of him.
Him.
His scent, strong and masculine, invade, fill and intoxicate my senses, driving my mind to frenzied heights.
His eyes, when they moisten as they look at me can reduce me to a pulsing, palpitating pulp.
I've been enamored with him from the moment we first met.
And when I held his hand, the deal was signed, sealed and delivered.
I am smitten by him, his quick and compassionate mind, his built, his sensitivity, his kind words, his gentle spirit, his business acumen, his sense of humour. Him.
We've exchanged all that there is, from our grievances on political and economic issues of our country to emotional sob stories. Such depth in a man.
He's the love of my life.
The little kisses he drops on my forehead every night; habitually, send butterflies diving into my stomach.
There will be no better feeling, even if the heavens opened up and the angels smiled down at me.
He makes me feel like a queen, he shelters me, gives me everything I ask of him.
I feel like I'm a better person around him, or at least the need to be one.
We are so alike, people are opined that we might even look alike.
His assertiveness, sense of independence, individuality and self strength mold my character.
When I cook, clean, do anything for him, his thanks make my world a brighter place to be in.
His voice, sounding like a bear's growl, always seems to emanate from deep in his throat, ringing loud and clear; can be intimidating if taken from the warmth in his dark, kind, beautiful brown eyes.
Those eyes that twinkle with the clarity of crystals, sapphires and diamonds melded into one sparkling jewel.
The only thing we haven't yet done is to culminate our mutually proclaimed love in coitus.
Oh, the sensations that besiege my mind when I think of how you'd love me, tenderly and with fearful and trembling worship. I can barely wait.
There is a stumbling block, however.
She's the bridge between me and my happily-ever-after.
She's the one you come home to, the one you go to bed with and wake up to.
She's the one that keeps you loving me the way you should, the way I want you to.
She's the one you said 'I do' to.
She is the other woman.
She is my mother.
- Ms. Koya
@taymie_GVO
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well done. a very good piece.