MY LOVE
The first time I probably saw him was in
dream Apparently a very long time ago: maybe back in
childhood? I don't know of a case when he
actually appeared with us, I didn’t at all
I was surprised. It's somehow natural
it was clear that he would finally appear.
His voice immediately filled the hallway,
rang, flying between glass balls
chandeliers, and splashed it into the kitchen. Dark
thin hand with long fingers and narrow
wrist, entwined with blue shadows of the door
handles, switches and wardrobe hangers.
He was thin, his face only stood out
long nose and bottomless eye windows,
hidden by the glare of glasses. Free
the sweater hid the outlines of the body, too
thin and wiry. And apparently it's his
slightly embarrassed - stupid men for some reason
they are so worried about their muscles, not
realizing that this is not very important.
Of course, it depends on everyone, but in our family it’s always
preferred aesthetics and grace
muscular strength - and even though I'm small
connoisseur of the beauty of men's legs, but these... How
they moved impatiently and easily, in them
felt the thinness of the bone and hidden
force, unexpected and precise movement
allowed even those in a hurry to step
at ease, and this is really difficult
express in words. They seem to live
his separate life, and he, with everything
I couldn't force them to do it if I wanted
something bad or ugly...
I don't know exactly what the heroes look like
legends, princes, prehistoric cats in
boots, -maybe so? He
said hello and walked further through the kitchen
(came to us on some business). And I,
without raising her eyes from the floor, she went out into
room, thinking that he was unlikely to
heard my quiet answer. That evening I
I sat silently in front of the TV for a long time,
fully understanding what is happening there and
absentmindedly looking around at the questions of the family.
I think they decided then that I was just
got sick. Without knowing it, they were
are right. And this disease had a name.
Almost a year has passed since that day. He
often happens with us. His look and voice
at first they almost drove me crazy, but
the touch of a sinewy and heavy (but with
such gentle fingers!) hands just
made me shiver. And he just doesn't seem to
took me seriously. On Sundays
I've been waiting since the morning for him to burst into
our huge sleepy apartment and,
after greeting everyone, he hugs me and
will lift you off the floor, spinning around the room.
He will joyfully say: “Hello, my dear
girl!" - and, pressing his face to mine
the back of the head, whispers: “My beauty!”...
Then, having discussed their affairs in the kitchen, while
there they clear the table and wash the dishes, sometimes
can come into my room where I'm alone
(our doors are closed), and sit down with
a cup of coffee in hand on the sofa next to
me. Gently and easily, either stroking or
just touching my neck (he has this
it comes out so simply and naturally that it doesn’t
there are also shadows of indecency from violations
conventions) and looking at me just ineyes
with his warm greenish eyes, he
could, smiling slightly, easily ask:
"What's up, pussy?" And I was anxiously waiting for him
touches, I was ready for everything
you want to give it to him, but... But he said
something else, finished his coffee and left.
The coffee aroma reminded me of him, I even
I started drinking coffee, although I used to hate it
could this crap. He left and came
again, they were talking about something, laughing,
rustled paper. Sometimes when I go to
kitchen, saw that he was drinking hot tea, and
through damply shiny ashen hair and
the blush that appeared on the cheekbones, I
I understood that he was taking a bath. I
imagined streams of water on his smooth
bronze skin, body curves, soap suds,
crawling across the stomach and leaving behind
clean skin, his clothes on the floor. This
horrified me, but it was sweet in my chest,
ached exhaustingly. I was very afraid that they
They will notice my embarrassment. Then I, diligently
looking to the side, stepping too correctly,
passed by the table where they
sat trying to think about something
outsider.
Often they sat alone for a long time and silently
in the room, occasionally muffled and
friend saying something in strange voices
to a friend. If I walked into the room (as I
I was afraid of doing something wrong and
disappoint him!), he, looking at me,
smiled and his heart almost jumped out of his head
from my chest, it was beating at my throat. But
I only felt happy
a few seconds - they were clearly waiting for me
I'll leaveto continue the conversation. Yes it is
Of course, it's a shame, but when he left, I,
sometimes, clinging to his shirt,
left in the bath, thinking about him. And when
he was here again, tried to pretend that
I don't care about him, I'm just with him
fun. And I was waiting and waiting for something...
Today I again look at him not in
strength to utter those hot and tender words,
which expand my chest and moisten
eyes. I dream of his love, I'm ready
leave everything and follow him - if only
will call. And he... he sat down on me again
sofa with a cup in hand, stroking me
striped back and scratches behind the ear when I
I curl up in a ball at his knee. I'm a little
I move, my breathing becomes hoarse and
tender; finally I will warm up and purr,
closing my eyes. From tenderness my paws will
tremble slightly, revealing sharp claws,
which he likes so much. He speaks again
kind words to me, and I don’t know exactly -
Am I dreaming or not? But still I know
another: he goes to my so-called
"mistress", to the one who lives with me in this
apartment. He doesn't love me...
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