Flash Thought #2: The Poetic Beast

It felt as though I was seeing him for the first time in 5 months, he has changed so much. Leaning on the bathroom wall with a bed sheet wrapped around his slender waist; water dripping from his hair; tiny droplets of water glistened on his full grown beard. He stood with his eyes closed as I sat on the bed watching him. I was curious what was on his mind, what was he thinking? What are you thinking, boy? I wanted to ask, but I did not want to disturb whatever that was going on in that head.

This magnificent creature standing in front of me had always fascinated me with his inner contradictions. When we first met, he claimed to be a broken man. Yes, that he was, but not distasteful… more like a broken Swarovski swan; still delicate, still beautiful, yet still so flawed.

What is he pondering over right now?

He can be a deep thinker, a poet; sprinkled with old school chivalry that leaves a delicious aftertaste in your mouth. He can also be a dark brooding ghost of a gentleman, who does not see beyond what he wants, regardless of the price. And yet, he can be an innocent child who is not equipped to look past the facade people put around him. Gauging his mood has always been like a puzzle; I love puzzles. And I love this man; the poet, the ghost, and the child.

I let my eyes lazily wander from his face to his bare chest moving rhythmically to a steady breathing. He has gained a little weight, but in a good way, it makes him look more chiseled, more muscular. I can see the stretch marks, an intricate web just below his shoulders. I lower my eyes to his waist, there’s a scar onto his left, an old one; I have never asked how he got it.

I lean back, almost lying down sideways on the bed and take in the sight of this beautiful man; a gentle soul, unaware of his effect on women around him; faint hearted women; day dreamers; women who’d like to believe they are strong while all the time wanting to be whisked off their feet. Is he really that naïve, or is he a devious bastard who knows all too well?

He has wrapped the bed sheet a little too low on his waist, as though wanting to tease me, tantalize me. I hold the key to his inner beast that knows nothing but to hunt. Do I use this key tonight?

He opened his eyes, looked at me intently with his head cocked to the left, “I have changed a lot in the past five months, have I not?”