She melted in her sheets, the soft suppleness of her skin cruising over the wavy creases of her silk covers. The sun was rising over the city and into the clouds, clearing space for the small droplets of summer rain. Her saturnine face was bespattered with the sky's tears as the blistering wind tore through the balcony doors. The wispy curtains curled like smoke at the wind's assertive voice, beckoning her to the shallow society on the other side of the balustrade. Lightning struck and fires lit and her face was set aglow. A roaring passion was blazing outside, a stirring piquancy, and she was laid on her back, ruminating. Her arm stretched out towards the open doors and she sucked in all the life that sprang in. And she looked up into his eyes and kissed him with tender lips that shuddered. The sun exposed a smattering of movement that survived the young chaos, her curtains became still, and the doors swung closed.
(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)
