Perfect Imperfection

Perfect Imperfection

The side of the bed where she slept smelt faintly of spirits and the intoxicating scent of her perfume. I didn't need to open my eyes to know she had gone. All I would see were the achingly familiar rays of sun shimmering across the vacant place she'd slept so peacefully through the night.

This was always the way. In the night, we'd find one another. Find a club, find a drink, find a dance floor, find a booth. We'd stumble into a taxi, stumble through my door... she'd stumble into my arms. She'd missed me. She'd whisper words into my ear; words laced with lust, affection, and something more. She'd brush her lips lightly against my tingling skin - my skin which had been waiting, waiting, waiting for this. She'd cover every inch, as if she was savouring my taste. Then I would take her lips in my own, and kiss her almost as though we'd been apart for a lifetime. 

Afterwards, she would rest in my arms, our hearts beating 100 miles per hour. She would let her head lie softly on my heaving chest, placing her hand lightly over my heart. The last words she would utter before falling asleep were always the same.

"I can feel your heart beat. It makes me feel so safe."

In the morning, she was gone. Only the ghost of her hand on my heart, her smell on my pillow, the faint imprint of her body in the covers, and a note, to remind me she'd been there at all.

A note. A note dripping with guilt and excuses. She always had an excuse.. I never questioned her. She'd be back soon, craving me.

I remember once, I'd awoken at dawn to find her still sleeping in my arms. She'd shifted slightly, but her hand still remained over my heart. Her eyes were fluttering as she dreamt, her skin glowingly pale. Mascara, lipstick, smeared across her face. Hair fanned and knotted around her sleeping form. I'd watched her for a moment, through tired eyes. She was perfect imperfection. I'd fallen back into the covers with a cigarette, just enjoying the feel of her lying next to me. I'd put out my cigarette, placed my hand over her own, and drifted back into my dreams. She could have been a dream.

When I awoke, she was gone.