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…He loved her for everything she wasn’t and everything she was.

Her flaws, instead of a blemish on her being, illuminated her creation in a way perfection could never hope to…and he loved her for that in a way he could never understand. When they made love, he made love to the extra pound or two that settled on her belly, the hatred of her thighs, and that humble freckle that crested on her right nipple.

Not because they made an impression on him, but because they impressed themselves into him.  

He knew this body, knew every intimate detail on both sides of her; he knew the coy, supple veteran of her bedroom and he knew the deeply religious mother of three just as well. He couldn’t define their passion, but he could count the freckles on her body with ease. Wasn’t that enough with love affairs like these?

It had to be. For now, it had to be.
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Another Shortie.

If you would like to expand this drabble, please send me a personal message!

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:iconreverendaspen:
Whoa. The detail and imagery you create is a thing of beauty. From what I've seen, your prose almost borders on poetry; it's that elegant.

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:iconshadyufo:
This is absurdly lovely and sigh-inducing. The bit about the freckles made me smile.

I love these drabbles and hope you post more!
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August 15
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