Day 18: Short Thought- Paper bound heart beats

She sat upright in bed thumbing through a poetry book, strands of hair drooping over her leopard print glasses. He sauntered in from the hallway, having escaped the cold silence of the guest bedroom. Looming, a silent force in the doorway, he watched her read in earnest. The tools of her trade sat on opposite sides of her body, sticky notes to her right, pens and highlighters to her left. A blue ball point pen twirled between her bare fingers, occasionally clicking against her self-manicured nails, something he was not accustomed to seeing. He could close his eyes and place her rings on her fingers in the same way a palm reader forecasts the future by using lines of the hand. He especially loved the large turquoise ring placed on her left pointer finger, symbolic of the inner tranquility she only showed in the twilight hours.
All the while he fought the overwhelming temptation to write sonnets on her back with the gently touch of fingertips. The words would form sentences on the wide rule paper of her spine, stanza accretion in its purest form. Editing would only be a measure, an excuse to comb from start to finish multiple times without question, only what seemed to be innocent intentions. Just the mere feeling of her pages, her flesh, in the palms of his hands would prove to be a better contact high than narcotics abused in the follies of his youth. He saw the radiance of her natural beauty shine under dim lights and wanted to absorb this stellar cosmic energy she emitted.
Pages of the book lay in her lotus crossed legs, rustling in time to the beating of a heart steeped in longing, a body crazed for intimacy of a foreign kind. He felt the only way of coveting her from the rest of the world was to hold her close, touch her until she grew exhausted. She would then feign for his arms as a source of comfort. In the aftermath of it all he would take her in slowly, toying with a single strand of hair, watching as her chest slowly rose and fell. She'd go to sleep seeing him and with any luck his existence in conjunction with hers would become a part of a more permanent frame of mind. Or so he hoped.......