Love with out “I love you”

Love with out “I love you”

His eyes, a mess of gray and blue, scanned her face slowly, memorizing each corner of her features. Her creamy smooth skin, that felt so delicate, that tasted so sweet, was a mixture of honey and something he couldn’t pin point, but had made all his senses go wild with each time she touched him. Her eyes, the brownest he had ever seen, where like two hands that caressed him. They made love to him with out a touch.

Her hair was a tangle of silk, like puzzle you couldn’t figure out. He would love to stair at her for hours, aimlessly looking for something he couldn’t find, something that filled him up inside, yet left him bare and yearning for more. It made him feel lost and confused, yet thrilled and blissful. As if he where a small boy again, grinning every time his mother gave him some type of sweet treats.

She was passionate about him, going wild every time she was in his arms. And it pleased him, to know that she felt this way, that she loved him so much. They would never say so in so many words, but it was always there.

In her eyes, on her lips.

In the way he held her every night after making love, sweaty and tired with only arms and legs tangled together as one.

Tonight was no exception. She had come to him; the look of desperation was enough to let him know she needed him. And he hadn’t asked questions, he never did. He was hers to have, mind, body and soul, as was she for him. Love for them was unexpected, never knowing when the bud of there passion was going to spring open, revealing its true colors. Words of affection where never uttered, but always said. He knew this wasn’t right, understood that there love would some day grow to intense. But there lips where meant for kissing, showing that they cared instead of making promises that would never be kept.

She knew she would always have him, knew that at any moment she could break his heart in two and he would still love her. And he knew some day it would come true. She would depart, growing old with the care of another man, while he would stay young, craving and starving for her sweet melody to complete him again. And in his death bed, when his heart would give into the dark light that gathers souls, he would die with his hand delicately placed on his chest, pretending it was hers instead. Pretending that she would leave with him and that together they would start the real journey. But for now, he would ask no questions. He wouldn’t stop her from leaving, nor beg her to stay. He wouldn’t ask her to tell him what she felt, and he will not say what in his heart he knew was true.

For now, it was love, with out “I love you.”

There are many types of loves in this world, as there are colors, animals, people. We even have a huge variety of tv's or toasters.

But of course love is different for all of us, and we cant just decide to buy it every time it breaks.

They love each other, they just dont say it.

Actions are stronger then words.

As always, hope you enjoyd the story. If not, terribly sorry. Atleast I enjoyd writing it, and thats all that counts in my variety filled world.