The Strings

ii. the start.

she was afraid.
her heart should not,
could not be feeling this way.
it was too soon, too soon.
a seat away he was,
she sneaked a look at his face.
it wasn't beautiful, she decided,
no,
not handsome either.
his hair messy, his skin brown,
his lips soft and his eyes unmoving.
but it was something, something her heart
decided was worth pounding for.
it was weird, so weird,
her hands had the strangest desire to know what his hair felt like against her palms,
her fingertips whispered desires to know what it would feel like, his skin.
biting her lips for the desire slowly rose, to know, the secrets his lips carried.
and his eyes, of course his eyes,
she merely wanted a peek of the world inside.
her ears were aching to hear his voice.
her mind racing with endless possibilities.
would be squeaky? or soft, like velvet?
or maybe low and rich like the colour of earth? no, she needed to know. she needed to know him.
thus, she turned to him,
and from nowhere, the courage she always lacked form the words that marked the start,
the start.

she was staring,
he could tell.
her kohl drawn eyes blazing as they travelled  across his face, curious she was.
his skin, felt as though it was burning with every glance of her eyes,
as though her eyes had the power to start a fire.
he wanted to smirk to let her know,
but he knew better than that.
he knew better than to care.
his heart, however, did not
for it would not stop pounding
in his ears as though
she brought the storm along
with her eyes.
he had to be careful, he knew.
nervous, that's what he was, he knew.
but her eyes,
he had this urge to know, he wanted to know.
all the secrets of her eyes,
all the tears, all the softness
that lived inside.
her face, now facing his.
oh, oh,
and from nowhere, her voice spilled out
like honey dripping, husky, tender,
don't look, don't look, his mind begged
but his eyes needed to drink the sight of her in, again.
again.
and thus,
her red painted lips, in the softest smile he'd ever seen,
it touched her eyes, like the way the first light of the day touches the skin of gold.
uncertain, curious, soft, her eyes.
find his voice, he needed to find his voice,
but his heart knew,
for it drummed in a tune
that marked the start,
the start.