What I Was Thinking...

Perhaps... perhaps I was thinking of her smile, that gorgeous smile of hers, with her lips stained the color of wine. The way she lights up the whole room just by the curl of her mouth, and the world is hers. Maybe I was thinking of her eyes, those deep, brown eyes like caramel, that melt and flow over her chocolate words. They catch the light and sparkle with golden flakes, like honey, smooth and soft. Or even her voice, a melody that whispers low and fills the room with awe, just by the way she says hello... God, her voice, I could listen to it for hours, it puts all pianos and violins to shame. Symphonies strive to sound like her. Maybe it's the way she walks, with such grace, such perfection that her clothes, like smoke, wrap around her and flow to the ground with endless beauty. Her steps put dancers to shame, with a new found art that is unreachable by the most talented of ballerinas. Or maybe...

Maybe I wasn't thinking at all. She numbs my mind and soothes the soul, with such a hot touch and such cool lips. Yes, that's it. I wasn't thinking, not the moment my lips touched hers, and my fingers intertwined with her body, not even the moment my soul was joined with hers. I thought for so many years, those years away in the war, every second, she was on my mind. I've thought about her more than any word that crossed my mind, or any prayer uttered across my lips. I thought about her every second I was away from her side. So perhaps that's the reason, that when I saw her... I needn't think at all.